


The Man of Misthaven

by bransch



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Bog Body, F/M, Gold is Not Nice, Killian is both the father of Alice and the love interest for Emma in this story, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-04 21:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15155675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bransch/pseuds/bransch
Summary: Storybrooke Maine is preparing for their annual fourth of July parade when they stumble upon a 300 year old body buried in Misthaven Bog, just beyond the town line. This is the first bog body discovered in the Northern US, and could put the town on the map… if only it hadn’t gone missing. Deputy Emma Swan should be focusing on the search, but she’s been a little distracted by the dark haired, blue-eyed man with amnesia she rescued the day before. Just who is this man she feels such a strong attraction to, and does he have any connection to the missing body?





	1. Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe it’s finally here! I have been working on this story for a while, and it feels a little surreal to be posting it now. I must give thanks to @gingerchangeling for being my beta as well as my go-to source for all my bog questions. And of course many thanks to @hollyethecurious for creating a beautiful photo set (go check it out on my Tumblr). Go give her all the love! And finally, many hugs and thanks to @kmomof4 for creating and coordinating @cssns. This is such a fun event, and it’s been amazing to see all the great supernatural stories. Keep up the good work everyone!

_Storybrooke, Maine, Friday June 29, 2018_

The morning sun was just rising when Emma Swan parked her car. She pulled her long blonde hair into a low ponytail and grabbed her travel mug of coffee. Stepping out of her car, she huddled against the slight morning chill and tugged her favorite red leather jacket closer to her body. Once she was settled, she headed toward the boardwalk that traversed Misthaven bog, just outside the city limits of Storybrooke, Maine, where Emma had lived for most of her life.

Storybrooke was the textbook definition of small town, with not much to recommend it. There was a quaint main street lined with cute shops, like every other small town in America, and a small harbor to the east, where the smell of fish from the cannery destroyed any romantic notions a passerby may have. The north and south of the town held forests with a single, two-lane highway bisecting them. To the west of town, a quarter-mile past the town line, lay a small wetland known as Misthaven bog.

Nestled just beyond the forest, the bog was not large and easy to miss if you didn’t know where to look. Clouds of mist rose over the area in the mornings, earning the warm wetland its name. The flat plain held a wide array of plant life, which in the summer included brilliant orange flowers and wild blueberries. The ground was made up of squishy peat moss, a requirement for the area to be considered a bog, and pools of water gathered in the more saturated areas. The landscape was punctuated with a few short, scrubby trees, but for the most part you could see for half a mile in all directions. The sky felt enormous there, like you were standing under a clear dome and looking up at a beautiful blue tapestry, decorated with soft balls of cotton made to look like puffy white clouds. It was one of Emma’s favorite places to go when life felt overwhelming. Quiet and unchanging, she especially loved it in the mornings, when she could come and sit on one of the benches on the boardwalk and think while she watched the birds flit in and out.

She had a lot to think about this morning. She would turn 30 this year, and although she considered herself a feminist and bristled at the idea, she couldn’t help but feel lonely and worried about her future prospects. Emma loved Storybrooke. She’d arrived in the town as a frightened eight-year old, being sent to live with an aunt and uncle she’d never knew existed. Now, 21 years later, she was part of a community. She had family, friends, and a really great kid. But her son, Henry, was 12 now. It wouldn’t be much longer before he’d be grown up and out of the house.

After the group homes and foster families Emma had experienced in her short life before Storybrooke, she’d had no idea what to expect from Ruth and Robert Nolan. Now she looked at them, Ruth in particular, as her saviors. They’d made her feel part of the family from the very beginning, incorporating her into their life with their twin boys, James and David, and their dog, Wilby. The boys were two years older than Emma, and at first James liked to torment his family's newest member. However, as they grew older he became protective of Emma and looked after her like a true little sister. David, in contrast, took to Emma right away, always looking out for her and protecting her from James in the early years.

And now David was engaged to Mary Margaret Blanchard, Emma’s best friend. She was happy for her brother and her friend. She really was. But she couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy she felt. At least James was still single, though his bachelor status was more a product of his owns deliberate actions than of circumstance. James detested small town life. He moved away from the town as soon as he could, and currently worked as a lawyer in New York. In his typical fashion, he’d ridiculed David for getting engaged. But despite his teasing, Emma knew James loved his brother and was happy for him.

As she sat and inhaled the mossy, earthy odor of the bog, Emma continued her reflections. Her friends had thrown David and Mary Margaret an impromptu engagement party the prior evening at Granny’s, the local diner and de facto gathering place. Her ex, and current boss, Graham, was there and he’d none-too-subtly hinted that he wanted to get back together with her.

_“I’m happy for David and Mary Margaret. They deserve a little happiness. They’re good people.”_  Graham had approached her as he said these words, a seemingly innocuous opening.

_“I agree,”_  Emma replied, trying to avoid engaging with him too much.

_“You’re a good person too, Emma. When are you going to find your happiness?”_

She’d forced a smile at his words.  _“I am happy. I’ve got a nice house, a good job, and a great kid. What more could I need?”_  Oh she could hit herself for leaving him that opening!

_“What about love, Emma?”_

_“I don’t think that’s in the cards for me, Graham.”_

_“That I can’t agree with. You’re a beautiful, passionate woman, and you deserve to be loved.”_

He’d leaned in closer during the last sentence, and if she’d wanted to, she could have closed the gap and kissed him. Most likely that was what he wanted, but it wasn’t something she desired. She’d turned away from him and stood up from her barstool.  _“Well, good talk, Graham. I’ll see you in the morning.”_ She’d escaped and stayed close to Ruth for the remainder of the night.

Despite Ruth’s knowing looks, she’d sheltered Emma from any further unwanted advances. It wasn’t that Graham was a bad guy. Quite the opposite, actually. He was a wonderful man, sweet and sensitive, and very handsome, with, a tall, strong build, soulful blue eyes and soft, light brown hair that curled adorably. Graham was a great guy, he just wasn’t the one for her. She couldn’t help herself; she liked a man with a little bit of a bad boy streak.

That was probably what had first attracted her to Henry’s father, Neal. The opposite of Graham was Neal, tanned, with shaggy brown hair and brown eyes that defined mischievous. The wayward son of one of the wealthier families in town, he’d run away as a young teenager and came back when he was 21. He was five years older than Emma, and he’d flattered her in a way none of her high school peers had. She was so charmed that she agreed to let him take her virginity in the back of the used yellow Volkswagen Beetle she’d been saving up to buy from his father. He skipped town again before she found out she was pregnant.

When his dad had realized she was knocked up, his “gift” had been to give her the car and tell her to keep the money she’d saved up to support the baby, “since she would need it.” It had been a struggle to get him to even contact Neal and let him know she was pregnant. Now, Henry only saw his father twice a year, and never spent any time with his grandfather. But Emma was lucky that Henry had two amazing uncles to help raise him, and she never felt her son had gone without.

After Neal, Emma had only dated one other time, with Graham, and that was after caving to pressure from her friends to “give the nice guy a chance.” It hadn’t worked out, and for many years she was fine with that. But last night had brought fresh feelings of loneliness, and as she sat on the bench now while the sun climbed higher, she made a wish. A simple wish.

“I wish I could find the person meant for me.”

It was silly. She felt silly. But she held it in her heart as she enjoyed the peaceful surroundings for a little longer before standing up to head into work.

* * *

_Weymouth, Dorset, England, May 23, 1743_

The hoofbeats sounded surprisingly quiet as they approached her cabin. She knew he’d found her, and she’d expected him to bring a contingent of guards. He always was quite the coward. To know that he’d come relatively unguarded meant one of two things. Either he’d gained more confidence in his ability to best her, or, more likely, he knew already that she was no longer a threat.

She hadn’t locked up the cabin, expecting his arrival. The door swung open and he walked in, but not alone. He’d brought one guard with him, a hulking specimen of a man. So, perhaps he did not know her secret yet. He was just too cheap to hire extra men.

His deceptively warm brown eyes took in the small space, and his upper lip rose in a sneer as he examined the sparse furnishings and dirt covered floors. “Secluding yourself in such drudgery… were you trying to throw me off the scent by burying yourself in filth?”

She chuckled and tossed her long ginger hair over her shoulder, fixing him with her own cold, blue-eyed stare. “Perhaps I just enjoy the charm. This place could be quite cozy with some work.”

He raised his chin and looked down on her as much as was possible given his shorter stature. “And yet I doubt you are willing to put in that effort. Let’s not be coy, Eloise. Why are you here? Did you really think you could hide from me?”

“On the contrary, I’ve been expecting you.”

His expression changed ever so slightly. “Ah,” he said, tilting his head, “are you ready to acquiesce to my proposal then?”

She raise her eyebrows and gave him a dismissive gesture. “Not likely. I have no intention of becoming your slave.”

“Is that so? Well then how do you expect to escape me? I will have your power. Your bloodline is a scourge that I will wipe out.”

“You are more than welcome to try and wipe out my family, but you won’t be able to do that with me.”

“What are you saying?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“I’m no longer the youngest in my bloodline.”

“That’s not possible. There can only be one descendent in every generation, which we both know is you. Now, it would be easier if you gave me your power willingly, but I do have other ways to take it.”

He shot his hand out in her direction, directing a bright stream of magic to her heart. The charge stunned her and surged through her body, but she only laughed. The energy lifted her from the ground, suspending her in midair for a moment as she continued to laugh at him. He cried out in frustration and pulled his hand back as if he’d been burned, abruptly halting the charge and dropping her to the floor.

She rose slowly to her hands and knees, her laughs becoming a cackle. “You’re too late, you monster!”

“No! How did you rid yourself of your power? Where is it?!” He raised his hand again, invisibly grasping her by the throat and choking her windpipe. Her face began to turn blue before he yanked his hand away and she collapsed to the ground once more.

“I told you,” she said between coughs and desperate breaths of air. “I am not the youngest in the bloodline.”

“How could you have had a child? There hasn’t be enough time since our last encounter.”

“Time isn’t as much of a requirement for the process when you have the magic of the golden flower to speed it along,” she huffed as she stood on shaky legs.

He froze and stared at her. “Where is the child?” he asked, his voice menacing.

“Somewhere nearby, I suppose. I didn’t bother myself too much once the process was over.”

“You fool! You would give up your immense power so flippantly?”

“A power which you say is a scourge! Yes, I would do so again a hundred times to free myself of the specter of you everywhere I go.”

“Foolish child. Tell me where your offspring is, and I’ll let you live.”

“I may not care much for my child, but I do care about thwarting you at every turn.” She reached into the pouch at her waist and extracted the last bit of magic at her disposal: a potion that would transport her hundreds of miles away in a flash. Laughing at him once more, she thrust the bottle to the ground. It smashed brilliantly, surrounding her in plumes of white smoke that quickly filled the room. When it dissipated, she was gone.

* * *

_Storybrooke, present day_

Emma dropped her phone as she hastily exited her car, heading toward town hall. She’d lost track of time during her morning excursion and as a result was now late for a meeting with the mayor.

“Shit shit shit,” she whispered to herself as she picked up the phone and thanked her stars that the screen wasn’t cracked. She shoved it into the pocket of her jeans and raced toward the second floor conference room where the meeting was taking place.

She stepped into the room as the mayor was mid-sentence. “Oh, Miss Swan. How nice of you to join us.”

Her face flushed and she took the only available seat, which happened to be next to Graham. “Sorry,” she said as she sat and tried to nonchalantly move the chair further away from her ex. “I had car trouble.”

“I’m sure,” the mayor said in reply, before continuing the discussion.

The meeting was a planning session for the upcoming 4th of July parade, now only a few days away. The parade was always a big event for the town, drawing visitors from other nearby municipalities. Crowd control was a big issue, which is why the mayor was currently holding a meeting with the entire Storybrooke Sheriff's Department, a team consisting of Sheriff Graham Humbert and his two deputies, David Nolan and Emma Swan. The current discussion was whether they needed to bring in additional help for the day of the parade.

After some contentious discussion where Graham insisted the team would need more support and the mayor insisted they just didn’t have it in the budget, a compromise was agreed on, where part-time support would be brought in for just before the parade started until just after it ended. The mayor would not support anything else.

Emma had a hard time paying attention during the meeting. Graham kept idly resting his hand on her arm. Halfway through the meeting, he got bolder and let his palm settle on her knee. By that point she was so on edge that she jumped at the contact. At that same moment, the lights in the room flickered, bringing the meeting to a pause and all eyes to focus on her. She blushed a deep red, though she couldn’t really understand why. Somehow she felt like the thing with the lights had been her doing, but that didn’t make any sense.

Graham continued pleading his case the entire time, not showing any discomfort. The mayor, however, took a long pause before responding, continuing to stare at Emma, as if seeing her for the first time. It was extremely disconcerting, and Emma sunk in the chair as far down as she could before finally, blessedly, the meeting continued.

By the time she got out of there, it was lunch time. David and Graham piled into one of the cruisers to visit the next town over, a half hour drive, to solicit help for the parade. Emma headed to Granny’s to grab a quick lunch before heading to the station to work on the never ending struggle that were police reports.

Thirty minutes later found Emma sighing loudly as she smelled the heady mixture of bread, butter, and melted cheese that made up her favorite meal. Her stomach grumbled in response, and she was grateful that no one was around to hear that. “I really need to get into the habit of eating more regularly,” she said aloud to no one in particular.

She picked up one of the sandwich halves and raised it to her mouth. Just as she was about to take the first heavenly bite, the phone rang.

“Damnit!” she cried in frustration, before dropping her sandwich and picking up the receiver. “Sheriff’s office,” she answered in a clipped tone.

_“Emma, it’s Robin.”_

She wanted to be mad at his call, but it was hard to be angry when she heard his eloquent tone. She’d always had a weakness for men with British accents. She sighed, “You’d better have a good reason for calling me now. I was just about to eat the first meal I’ve had in over twelve hours.”

_“I am sorry to interrupt, but I need you to come down here. I’ll buy you another grilled cheese to make up for it.”_

“How do you know I’m eating a grilled cheese?”

_“What else would it be with you?”_

“Fair point,” she said with a laugh. “Make it two sandwiches, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

He chuckled in reply.  _“Deal. See you soon.”_

As soon as she hung up, she grabbed the sandwich half she’d started on and shoved it in her mouth, sad that she didn’t have a chance to appreciate the crispiness of the bread or the gooeyness of the cheese. She held the sandwich between her teeth as she stood and shrugged on her jacket.

Wiping her hands on her jeans, she slid into the squad car, driving back toward the bog. Robin worked for the Maine Department of Forestry, and oversaw the bog and the surrounding nature preserve. Parking the cruiser in the gravel lot in front of Robin’s cabin, she exited the car and followed the boardwalk until she came upon the sandy-haired, broad-shouldered figure of Robin, looming over the stockier, frightened figure of Anton, the high school science teacher, who was shaking so hard his long, brown curls were bouncing off his shoulders.

“What’s going on here?” Emma asked as she moved closer to where they stood.

“I found this one digging in the bog. Illegally digging, may I add,” Robin said through clenched teeth.

“Anton, come on,” Emma chided. “You know this area is protected. I really don’t want to arrest you.”

Anton shrugged and held up his hands. “I just wanted to get a few samples so I could talk to my students about the ecology of the bog.”

Emma reached for the handcuffs holstered on her belt. “Well, it’s still against the law to dig up a protected area. I have to take you in, at least for a while.”

“Wait,” Robin said as he reached out and stopped her. “I didn’t call you here to arrest him, Emma.”

“No? Then why am I here?”

“Anton… he found something. We think it’s a body.” Robin turned and stepped over the low rail and motioned for her to follow. “Stay with me and only step where I step. I don’t want you sinking in.”

Emma followed him warily. She’d been to the bog multiple times, but had never set foot anywhere other than the designated walkway. As she stepped on the surface, she was surprised to find how springy it was. It was a little like stepping on a trampoline. She had to bite back a giggle as she got her footing.

Robin waited for her to get her bearings before he turned and walked along a narrow path that seemed firmer than the rest. When they’d walked about 5 yards, he stopped and turned to her. “Come stand right here. I’m going to step down to the water.”

Emma did as he instructed and watched as he traversed an especially spongy patch that led down to a small pool. He removed a pen from his shirt pocket and bent over. As he did, he pointed the pen to what she at first thought was a small pile of mud. However, when she looked closer, she saw that it was a human hand, balled into a fist.

“Shit…” she muttered under her breath. She met Robin’s eyes as he stood up. “Any idea who it could be?”

“I would think I should be the one asking that question, seeing as how you are the deputy. But this is also a small town and I think we all would have heard if someone was missing.”

“Could it be from another town?”

“Maybe, although that seems a long drive to dump a body. And considering how far into the bog we are, I would have noticed had someone tried to drag a body out here.”

“Might be the perfect cover up, though,” she said, reaching for the radio at her shoulder. “I need to call this in. We’re gonna have to remove it and take it to be examined.”

Robin heaved a long sigh. “I was afraid you would say that.”

Two hours later Emma stood in the hospital morgue with her brother and Graham. Two volunteer firefighters had extracted the body from the bog, under Robin’s careful supervision. She looked over the body laid out before them, still wearing shoes and leather trousers. She’d learned about bog bodies in high school, and was fascinated now, seeing one up close. Other than the dark tanning of his skin, he looked like he might open his eyes at any minute. He still had facial hair peppering his cheeks and chin.

“What are we looking at?” Graham asked Dr. Jefferson Milliner, or ‘Jeff’ as he preferred to be called, head of the morgue. “Is this a recent victim?”

“I don’t believe so,” the doctor replied. “Look at his clothing. These pants are hand stitched. He’s been in the bog for a long time.”

“But he’s not all… deflated like those pictures they showed us in school,” Emma said.

“Those bodies were in the bogs for much longer than him, and in different conditions,” Jeff said with a chuckle. “I think this one’s bone structure is still intact, although it’s likely weakened.”

“What happened to his hand?” Graham asked.

Emma looked down and noticed for the first time that the corpse’s left hand was missing.

“The flesh looks pretty mangled, but it was probably separated after his death,” Jeff replied. “The weight of a bog has been known to cause posthumous injuries to bodies buried in them. I’ll need to do some further analysis to be sure, however.”

“How old do you think it is?” David inquired.

“Hmm… maybe 200 or 300 years old? I’m not an expert, but he looks like a colonist. We really need to get an expert in here to look at him. I have a contact in Boston I can call.”

“Yes, doctor, that would be helpful. Thank you.” Graham said.

The others filed out of the room, but Emma stood a bit longer, staring at the body stretched out on the table. There was something about him, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. She couldn’t shake the thought that she had just been to the bog that morning, and there had been no sign of him. The pool where he was found was not far from where she’d been sitting. How had she not seen him? Where did he come from? She couldn’t figure it out, and she stayed there staring at him until David came back down the stairs to retrieve his sister.

* * *

_Misthaven Bog, June 30th, 1755_

The smell of decay filled her nostrils and made her sick to her stomach. She wanted nothing more than to run far away from this place. The landscape was eerie, with sparse vegetation punctuated by steaming pools of water. The ground felt unstable, as if she were walking on a blanket spread over a pond. The water here was stagnant and dead, nothing like the sea her Papa had taught her to love.

“Do you know what the ancients thought about bogs?” The cruel voice disrupted her thoughts and brought her attention back to her captor. He stood before her, while two large men held her Papa behind him. He sounded like the mean school mistress she’d had for a short time when she and Papa first settled in America. When they thought they had escaped this evil man’s clutches. When they thought they could have a normal life.

She stared owl-eyed at the man she’d been in fear of for the last three years of her life. He was shorter than she’d remembered him being. She’d always thought of him as a looming figure, but she now saw he was barely taller than Papa’s shoulder. However, every other aspect of him fit her nightmarish memories. He had the same leathery skin and wavy hair hanging down to his shoulders that she remembered. His eyes were cold and seemed to bore into her very soul. And his voice was like a snake, slithering through her ears and invading her thoughts.

He looked down at her now and sneered. “I asked you a question, little girl,” he hissed with his snake tongue.

“No?” she replied, her fear stopping her from saying anything more.

“The ancients,” he responded condescendingly, “thought bogs were the gateway to the underworld. They used to leave offerings to the gods: jewels, books, food, and even,” he paused and turned his head to look at Papa, “human sacrifices.”

She felt her tears begin to flow freely at his words. “Please, sir,” she begged, “don’t kill my Papa. He’s all I have!” Her voice was hoarse, but she continued her pleading.

“Your Papa brought this upon himself, child, when he ran from me! He knew what I was after, and he knew I would stop at nothing to get it. Had he listened to me years ago, we could have avoided this whole mess.”

Despite being beaten and restrained, Papa growled at his words. “I would never have let you take her, you bloody demon!”

The man turned to Papa again. “And yet here we are! All this fuss and I am still victorious.”

“You may take my life, but this isn’t over! You will be stopped. I have faith in my daughter.”

“She’s just a child!” the man scoffed. “You stubborn imbecile. This is over. You will die, and I will take your daughter’s power and rid the world of the scourge that is the Gothel bloodline once and for all.”

“You bastard! You have no care for the world! You only wish to take her power. You can try to use her, but you will never be successful. She’s too strong for you!”

“I’m tired of this.” The evil man lifted his gaze to the larger of the two men holding Papa. “Kill him.”

“No!” she cried out, but it was too late. She screamed as a dagger was plunged into Papa’s abdomen over and over, until his torso was covered in blood and his head hung limply on his chest. “No no no no no!” she cried as her tears poured down her face. “Papa…” she sniffled and wiped her eyes, though it did nothing to stem the tide. She refused to accept that he was gone; that this was the last she would see of him. “Papa, I promise you,” she said, biting her lip to stop its quivering, “I will find a way. We will be together again.”

“I think not, dearie,” the evil man said. He pulled a length of rope from his belt and threw it to his henchmen. “Bury him in the bog, tie him down. Drive stakes through his body if you have to. Just make sure he isn’t found.” He turned to his captive and roughly grabbed her arm. “You’re coming with me.” He began walking and pulled to make her follow, but she dug in her heels.

She could feel it coursing through her. This place was alive. There was something otherworldly around them, and it didn’t like what had just happened. It mixed and mingled with the magic that flowed through her veins. It was speaking to her. Calling out. Promising something. Not vengeance. Retribution. Justice. Reconciliation. She nodded her head in response. Whatever was there, it would make sure she could keep her promise to her Papa. She just had to be patient. And, fortunately, Alice Jones was a very patient girl.

* * *

_Storybrooke, Saturday, June 30, 2018_

The next day was Emma’s day off. She was looking forward to spending some time with her son. Henry was 12 now, and seemed less and less interested in hanging out with his mom. But she had mentioned the bog body the previous night, and he was very eager to see it. Emma decided to bring him by to hospital, just for a peek. If she couldn’t use her cop status to impress her pre-teen son, what good was it for?

She and Henry parked outside the small hospital and walked in. They took the stairs down to the entrance to the morgue, where they met with David. His sandy blonde hair was mussed, like he’d been nervously rubbing it.

“Emma,” he asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Mom’s gonna show me the body!” Henry said excitedly.

“Is she now?” David asked, crossing his arms over his chest and narrowing his blue-eyed gaze to glare at his sister.

“Come on Dave,” Emma pleaded, trying her best to meet his steely gaze with her own green-eyed, puppy dog look.. “We probably won’t have much access to this guy once the experts sweep in and take him back to their lab for research.”

“As it is, we don’t have an access to him now.”

“What?” Emma furrowed her brow. “Why not?”

“He’s gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean he’s gone? Did they already come and get him?”

“No. Jeff took some scans and pictures of him yesterday, then locked the place up. When he came back this morning, the body was gone.”

“That sounds fishy. It’s not like a 300 year old body can just wake up and walk away.”

“You’re telling me. It’s the weirdest thing.”

“What are we gonna do?”

“Graham and I are going to keep interviewing the staff and looking for evidence. You get to go home, since it’s your day off. I’m sure there will still be plenty to do tomorrow.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Okay  _dad_.” David was forever driving her crazy with his paternal instincts. She turned to Henry. “What do you say to a stop at Granny’s, kid?”

Henry looked at his mom, his brown eyes wary. “Actually, mom, Avery’s dad has been letting me help on the parade float he’s building. If we can’t see the body, can you take me to his house so I can help finish it up?”

“Really? I was hoping we could have some bonding time.”

Henry gave her a sheepish smile and pushed his brown hair back from his face. “Later this week, after the parade? This is our last chance to finish up the float.”

“Fine.” She swatted her son lightly on the back. “Let’s go.”

“Bye Uncle David,” Henry said as he turned to walk away.

“See you later kid,” David replied. “And don’t tell anyone about this. Last thing I need is the mayor breathing down my neck about it.”

“You got it,” Henry said.

“I’m serious!” David yelled after them, but Emma and Henry just smirked as they left the hospital.

After dropping Henry off at Avery’s, Emma decided to take the scenic route home, enjoying the beautiful Saturday she suddenly had all to herself. She was so lost in thought about what to do that she almost didn’t see the man walking along the side of the forest road. A  _naked_  man walking along the side of the forest road. She slowed down and pulled over just ahead of him. He stopped walking and stared quizzically at her car.

She watched him in the rearview mirror for a moment before exiting her Bug. He was not anyone she recognized. Maybe he was one of the new cannery employees, and had a bit too much to drink the night before? She took a deep breath and stepped out, turning to face him.

Her first thought, after facing him head on, was how attractive he was. He was a beautiful man, with hard, lean muscle under a layer of dark body hair. The hair on his head was a little shaggy, but fell in his face, making him look younger than he probably was. As she got closer, she saw his jaw was covered in scruff that was too short to be called a beard. And to top everything off, he looked at her with the most beautiful, piercing, cobalt-blue eyes she’d ever seen.

She stopped about ten feet away from him. Her left hand slid around her back and touched the handcuffs still holstered to her belt. “Are you okay?” she called out, watching him carefully for any erratic movements.

Surprisingly, he flashed an adorably dimpled smile at her, the crows’ feet at his eyes crinkling merrily.  _Yes_ , she thought to herself,  _he is definitely drunk_. She tried again, “Where are your clothes, buddy?”

He looked down at himself and then back at her, a blush creeping up his cheeks and reddening the tips of his ears. “Apologies, miss. I could not find my garments when I awoke.”

She suppressed a groan. Of course he had to be British, because he wasn’t already attractive enough. “And where did you wake up? Did your friends play a trick on you? A little hazing for the new guy?”

He furrowed his brow. “Sorry. I don’t really know where I woke up. I didn’t recognize it. Truthfully, I don’t recognize much of anything.”

Emma relaxed her stance. He either drank so hard he blacked out, or he hit his head and was suffering from amnesia. Either way, she pitied him. “What’s your name?”

“I can’t recall.”

“Okay… so what do you remember?”

He gave her an apologetic smile. “Not much, I’m afraid.”

Emma looked at him for a moment as she tried to figure out her next move. She pointed to him. “Wait right there.” She walked around the front of her Bug and opened the trunk, fishing out a blanket she kept there. Moving back toward the stranger, she handed him the blanket, which he took gratefully and draped over his shoulders. She noticed, for the first time during this exchange, that he was missing his left hand. The mangled flesh at the end of his arm was heavily scarred, but the wound looked old.

“Thank you, milady.”

“Come on,” she said, gesturing toward her car with her head. “I’ll take you to the hospital. You need to be checked out.”

He followed her without protest. When they reached the car, he looked up wide-eyed. “This is a marvelous carriage. How does it operate without horses?”

“Huh?” Emma asked. She leaned around him and opened the door. “Can you sit down?”

He stared blankly for a moment, but acquiesced and settled into the seat without trouble. Emma walked around the car and got back in the driver’s seat. She saw he wasn’t buckled in, but decided to spare herself the headache of trying to explain seat belts to him. Instead she started the engine and made a u-turn, heading back to the hospital.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma takes John Doe to the hospital. In the past, we learn what lengths Alice and her Papa went to avoid the evil man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the incredible reception you gave Part 1 of this story! I am blown away by the response. I hope you continue to enjoy the story. This next installment is a long one, but lots of CS interaction, so I don’t think you’ll mind too much. ^_~

_Storybrooke, Saturday June 30, 2018_ **  
**

For the third time in the last 24 hours, Emma parked in front of the hospital. This time, at least, she wasn’t going to the morgue. She made sure she had her badge before exiting the car and walked around to help John Doe out. Thankfully, the hospital was not very busy, and they were led to a private examination room. After a moment, a nurse walked in with a hospital gown and a robe.

“I’ll just put these here,” she said as she settled them at the foot of the bed.

John Doe sat on the bed and looked at the items, unsure of what to do. He glanced toward Emma.

“Don’t you want to get dressed?” she asked.

“Oh… aye. I’ll just…” He fingered the garments for a moment as he continued to stare at her. The tips of his ears began to turn red.

“Oh! Right,” Emma said. “I’ll just step out.”

He stood at the same time she did, bringing their bodies closer than she liked in such a small space. “Will you be back?” he asked, as his right arm snaked out from under the blanket to rub at the scruff covering his jaw.“If you’d like me to.” She found his nervousness charming, and she gave him a genuine smile. “I can come back and stay with you until the doctor gets you settled.”

“I would like that, thank you.” He returned her smile with a brilliant grin of his own.

She got caught up in his eyes for a moment, drowning in their deep blue depths, before she heard Dr. Whale tap on the door. Clearing her throat, she stepped aside. “Doctor,” she said, her tone a bit too high for her liking.

“Deputy Swan,” he returned, his gaze teetering on the edge of lecherous. Dr. Whale was a notorious flirt, but was also one of the best doctors in the state. He’d repeatedly turned down opportunities to move to bigger hospitals in bigger towns, saying he preferred the pace of small town life. He’d never tried to make a move on Emma, but she suspected that was mostly due to his brief, but disastrous, relationship with Mary Margaret. Emma knew that the notorious womanizer was actually a secretly sappy, over-the-top romantic. No doubt he was aware that she possessed this knowledge and thus had decided to keep his distance.

Doctor Whale shifted his gaze to John Doe. He held out his hand. “Dr. Victor Whale.” The other man took it tentatively, and Whale gave him a firm shake before releasing. “So. What seems to be the issue?”

“Well,” John Doe began, “I’m not quite sure myself. I don’t remember much before this lass found me.”

Whale raised his brow. “Where did you find him?” he asked Emma.

“Walking along the forest road, maybe three miles from here.”

“And you don’t remember anything before then?” the doctor asked, turning back to the man.

“I remember waking up, but I can’t recall where I was. I had trouble seeing. The room was dark and very cold. I remember feeling confined and simply wanting to breathe fresh air. It was still dark when I got outside, but I just started walking, thinking I could find something familiar.”

“Do you know if you walked in a straight path?”

He gave an uneasy smile. “I don’t think I did. I really felt quite out of sorts.” He shook his head and his smile broadened. “I’m not making any sense, am I?”

Whale gave him a reassuring look. “Disorientation is common with cases of amnesia.” He opened the chart and began writing. “I’m going to order a few tests, just to check you out for any internal trauma. We’ll want to keep you here for observation and perhaps have Dr. Hopper come chat with you and see if he can’t help jog your memory.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow you,” John Doe replied, his ears turning red again.

“Just know that we’ll take care you, sir. I’ll be back in a few hours to see how you are doing.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

Whale turned to Emma. “Deputy Swan, will you be here a while?”

“I was planning to stay until the patient was settled.”

“Please come find me before you leave. I’d like to get a few more details from you. But it’s not urgent.”

He stepped away from the room. Emma and John Doe stared at each other once more, his gaze more unsure than earlier. Emma reached out and placed a firm hand on his arm, squeezing his bicep through the blanket. “It’s gonna be okay. Whale is one of the best doctors in the state.”

He gave a dry chuckle. “I am glad to hear you recommend him so highly.”

She let her gaze drop to the clothes still on the bed. Looking up at him, she said “why don’t you get dressed? I will see if I can go find us some food. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“Sustenance does sound good, thank you.”

She found herself wanting to laugh at his old fashioned language, but she bit her lip. “I’ll be back,” she said as she stepped out of the room and headed to the vending machines.

Emma spent most of her free Saturday at the hospital with John Doe. She shouldn't have stayed so long, but she couldn’t bear to leave him. He was so nervous, though he rarely spoke to that effect. When he was taken for a CT scan, he would only agree to go if Emma could come with him. She waited just outside the room while the scan was performed, and walked alongside the gurney, holding his hand, all the way back to his room.

After the tests were performed, the hospital gave him a proper meal. He stared in wonder at the tray, taking particular interest in the small bowl of jello cubes. He picked it up and shook it lightly, closely observing how the substance moved. “What do they call this?”

She smiled at his childlike wonder. “Jello. You’ve never seen jello before?”

“Can’t say that I have.” He smiled at her, then picked up a gelatinous cube and popped it in his mouth. He swallowed it down with an exaggerated motion. “It’s very sweet. Reminds me of jam, only without the fruit.”

“That’s basically what it is,” Emma replied with a laugh.

Despite his unfamiliarity with the contents, he ate everything on the tray and drank all the water in the small pitcher he’d been provided.

“Wow,” Emma said, “I’m impressed. Guess you were hungry.”

“I do feel like it’s been a very long time since I ate.”

When the room fell quiet, Emma turned on the TV. This sparked a new round of questioning. It seemed he had never encountered television in his life. “You must be from an Amish community, or something like that,” Emma mused.

He grinned at her. “I don’t know what that is, but sure.”

She giggled at his words. After he ate lunch, the day seemed to be taking its toll on him. His eyes drooped and he was struggling to hold his head up. Emma stood and looked at the clock, not believing it was almost four in the afternoon. “I think I should go. You look like you could use a nap.”

“Apologies, love. I do seem to be rather fatigued.”

“I’ve got to work tomorrow, but I’ll come by and check on you.” She paused, then stepped to the nightstand and picked up the pad of paper and pen left there. She quickly wrote her number and handed it to him. “That’s my cell number. Give me a call if you need anything. I’m here for you.”

He gave her a grateful look. “Thank you. You really have been my savior today.”

She returned his look with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

_Irish Sea, July 19, 1751_

Alice stood against the gunwhale and relished the feeling of the wind whipping at her face. She’d never been on a ship before, though Papa had taken her to the sea enough times, as well as sharing with her tales of his own time as a sailor. Her Papa had a hard life, spending the majority of his childhood as an indentured servant before buying back his freedom by enlisting in the Navy with his brother. After rising through the ranks in his early adulthood, his promising career was cut short after only 6 years, when Uncle Liam contracted and died from typhoid fever.

Papa, who had only just earned the rank of lieutenant, deserted from the service and ran into hiding, drowning his sorrow in rum. Liam was his only family, and Papa said without his brother he felt adrift. He liked to tell Alce that had it not been for her sudden appearance, he might be dead. He shamefully admits that he does not remember much of her mother, but when a baby was left on his doorstep, with a note explaining that she was his daughter, he didn’t hesitate. He sobered up and cared for the child.

As Alice grew, there was no mistaking her for anyone else’s child. She had his eyes, and his ears. She had his smile and his sense of humor. Alice loved her papa, and he spoiled her as much as he could on their meager earnings. He worked various odd jobs, eventually learning the trade of blacksmith. Alice remembered her younger years fondly, as a time when she and her Papa were poor, but happy.

There wasn’t a time in Alice’s life that she didn’t remember the feeling of magic flowing through her body. It was a pleasant hum that she assumed everyone else felt in the same measure. There were incidents from before, things that may have been written off as mere coincidence, but nothing as blatant as the incident that followed shortly after her seventh birthday.

Alice and Papa were making marmalade, a favorite treat of hers. Consumption of citrus was always important to Papa after his time at sea, and he never denied his girl her requests to make more. They’d even sold jars of it during especially lean times, though Papa had learned that the money they made selling it was far less than the amount saved if there was more marmalade on hand to satisfy his starfish’s appetite.

Alice was thinking about how they never had enough marmalade for her liking while she stirred the pot. Without warning, the sticky substance in the pot doubled in volume immediately. Alice screeched in surprise, calling Papa to her side. He could not believe his eyes as the contents of the pot continued to rise, threatening to boil over. Papa hurriedly removed the pot from the stove and set it aside.

“I think we have enough marmalade to last a long while now, eh Starfish?”

Alice recalled smiling as she looked at the pot, still rising even as Papa hurriedly spooned the contents into jars. “I guess we do,” she replied with a chuckle, and immediately the jam stopped its churning and settled.

They had enough marmalade to fill all their jars as well as another dozen they acquired from neighbors. The larder was beautifully full, and Alice ate marmalade sandwiches every day for months. When they got down to the last two jars, the supply continued. No matter how often they removed the next to last jar, there were always two jars waiting the following day. Alice was delighted at this, and did not notice her Papa’s unease.

She bragged to her few playmates in the village. Alice never had many close friends, always being seen as a bit strange by her cohort. However, when she bragged of having an endless supply of marmalade, the village began chattering about the blacksmith and his strange daughter. Word got around, and one night, about a year after the marmalade incident, there was an ominous knocking at the door to their cottage.

Papa opened the door to reveal a short, well-dressed man with dark grey hair that fell loosely to his shoulders. His blue frock coat adorned with gold buttons made him look out of place in their sleepy little village. He seemed like he should be attending a function at the grand estate 15 miles away.

“Can I help you… sir?” Papa added the title as an afterthought, not sure if he was addressing nobility.

“Are you the blacksmith?” the man asked as he peered curiously at Papa.

“I am. How can I help you?”

“Might I come in?” the man feigned an air of helplessness, but Alice immediately saw through this and eyed him warily. She tried in vain to telepathically communicate her sense of danger to Papa, but he let the man in anyway.

Once the door was shut behind him, the man took in their small, cozy cottage. He spun around slowly to take in his surroundings. When he turned back, his gaze landed on Alice.

“It’s a wonder it took me so long…” he said, trailing off. He stepped closer and took her chin in his hand. “You look just like your mother, child.”

He released his grip and Papa hastily joined them, placing his hands protectively on Alice’s shoulders. “I didn’t get your name, Mr…?”

“Gold. Roderick Gold.”

“And what is your interest in my daughter, Mr. Gold?”

“I knew the child’s mother. I have been trying to locate this girl for a very long time.”

Papa gently coaxed Alice out of her chair to stand, before pulling her firmly into his side. “I ask again, sir,” Papa began, “what is your interest in my daughter?”

“Why, only to change her life decidedly for the better.”

“What?” Alice asked, unbelieving. She knew manners dictated that she should not speak to this man unless addressed directly, but Alice had never been one for following rules.

“What do you know of your mother, child?”

Alice looked up at Papa with wide eyes. Papa took his cue to answer the man. “I have not seen her mother since she was a very small child. Alice’s mother could not care for her, so I have raised her on my own.”

“So you likely do not know, then, that Alice’s mother, Eloise, was my ward? Eloise disappeared nine years ago, likely after she came to be with child. I learned of the child some time ago, and although I continue to look for Eloise, I feel a responsibility for her child as well. I want to take you, dear, and give you the life you should have. Pretty gowns, the best education, and when you are older, balls and high society.”

Alice’s eyes lit up at the many pleasures being offered to her. “Do you have a library, sir?”

“Indeed I do. With more books than you could read in a lifetime, I’d wager.”

Alice looked up at Papa, not believing her luck. “Can we go with him Papa?”

Papa’s hand lifted to rub the back of his neck. “I imagine Mr. Gold does not have a place for me in this new life of yours, Starfish.”

“What? How can I go without you, Papa?” She turned to face Mr. Gold. “Papa must come with me, Mr. Gold, please!”

“I am sorry, child. Your father is right. I would permit him to visit you, of course, but I have no need for a blacksmith on my estate at present. Should that change, I would gladly make the position open to you, good man.”

“How generous,” Papa responded with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “This is a lot to take in. You will give us a few days to consider, won’t you?”

“Indeed,” Mr. Gold replied. “I will be visiting the estate just east of here for a few days. I will return to you in three days time and expect to have your response then. If you decide to do what is in the best interest of your child, you should have her things ready and she will leave with me at that time.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gold. We will see you then,” Papa said, opening the door and making it very clear that it was time for the man to leave. Papa watched out the window as the man alighted in his carriage and traveled in an easterly direction. Only once he was sure the man was gone did he turn to Alice.

“Pack your things, starfish.”

“What? Now? Mr. Gold said I had three more days. I am not ready to part with you, Papa!”

“We are not parting, love. We are leaving this village,  _tonight_. That man cannot find us again.”

“Why Papa?”

“Because he is lying. I don’t remember much of your mother, dear one, but she was not a high born lady, no matter what he says. But I do recall she had certain… abilities. I thought nothing of it at the time, but I have seen these in you. I have no proof, but I believe that man only wants you for the power you possess. And he will have to kill me before he gets it.”

They traveled by foot, stopping in small, unassuming towns. They slept in inns when they could afford it and in abandoned buildings or under the stars when they could not. Papa worked odd jobs to help them get by. Eventually Papa gained a position on a ship under a captain who allowed Alice to accompany him. And now they were traveling to Dublin to start anew. She hoped they would never see Mr. Gold again.

 

* * *

 

_Storybrooke, Sunday July 1, 2018_

The next morning, Emma entered the station to see both David and Graham standing in the bullpen. “What’s going on?” she asked, turning to David. “Aren’t you supposed to be off today?”

“Emergency meeting,” Graham replied.

“What’s the emergency?” Emma asked.

“I’ll tell you,” she heard a commanding voice speak from behind her, accompanied by the rhythmic tapping of high heels. The woman, Deputy Mayor Regina Mills, stood in her immaculately tailored skirt suit, her hands on her hips as she glared at them. “Somehow, your department managed to have both a breakthrough discovery and an unparalleled disaster in the same day.” She tossed her shoulder-length brown hair back as she stared at Emma. “Tell me, Deputy Swan, how is it possible to lose a body that has been dead for 300 years?”

Emma looked uncomfortably at the other woman. “Regina, come on, it’s not like we planned to lose him.”

“That’s a bit informal, I think. It’s Deputy Mayor Mills to you! And planned or not, this department needs to fix the mistake.”

“What’s the big deal?” Emma asked. Graham and David were being annoyingly silent. “Forty-eight hours ago we didn’t even know he was there.”

Regina heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. “The big deal, Deputy Swan, is that this is the first bog body to be found in the northern US! A discovery like this could bring tourists to Storybrooke. Tourists that will bring revenue. Revenue, which, may I remind you, pays your salary!”

Emma huffed in reply, but couldn’t think of anything else to say. Satisfied that she’d intimidated everyone sufficiently, Regina left the station. Graham ordered Emma to go back to hospital and see if she could find anything that he and David may have missed the day before.

Emma didn’t mind the errand, and hoped she could get a chance to check on John Doe during the day. She hurried down to the morgue to complete her task as quickly as possible. After a brief knock on the door, she stepped inside and found Jeff speaking with a young woman Emma had never seen before.

“Deputy Swan,” he said, turning to her as she entered the room. “I was just getting ready to call the station.”

“Oh?” Emma asked as she eyed the newcomer warily.

Jeff pointed toward the other woman. “Let me introduce Matilda Towers. She’s the forensics expert I mentioned the other day.”

“Please, call me Tilly,” the other woman said, extending her hand for a shake.

Emma peered curiously at the Tilly for a moment. “Emma Swan,” she replied, taking the proffered hand and perusing the young woman. Her blond hair fell around her face in waves, save for a few strands she’d pinned back. She had a British accent, large cobalt-blue eyes, an angular jaw, and ears that were slightly pointed at the tip. Inexplicably, an image of John Doe flashed in Emma’s mind. Could he be related to this woman? She immediately shook off the notion. Wouldn’t Tilly know if she had a missing relative who’d last been seen in the area? She chalked it up to her imagination.

“Is everything alright?” Tilly asked nervously.

Emma was embarrassed to find she’d been staring. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. You remind me of someone else, but I can’t place it.”

Tilly chuckled. “I get that a lot.”

Emma narrowed her eyes and looked more closely at the woman. She didn’t look older than 25. “Forgive me if this sounds offensive, but I wasn’t expecting someone so…”

“Young?” Tilly replied. “I’m older than I look. And I’ve studied bog bodies for  _years_. I was quite excited when Jeff phoned and mentioned you’d found one here.”

“Yeah,” Emma said with a shake of her head. “Emphasis on the past tense.”

“Yes. Jeff mentioned that. Any luck on finding him?”

Emma shifted her gaze to Jeff. “That’s actually why I’m here. Graham wanted me to come by and see if I could find anything they missed.”

Jeff waved his hand through the air in a flourishing motion. “By all means. I will never object to a closer inspection from you, dear Emma.” He gave her a flirtatious wink.

Emma scoffed, but before she could say anything more, Tilly jumped in. “Really Jeff? Has a lecherous come-on ever truly worked for you?”

Smiling, Emma pointed to Tilly. “I like her.”

She proceeded to search through the lab while Jeff and Tilly stepped out to visit the cafeteria. Emma searched all throughout the small space, but found nothing that wasn’t already reported by Graham and David. She was tapping her foot frustratedly when Jeff returned.

“No luck?” he asked.

“Nothing that David and Graham haven’t found.” She noticed he’d returned alone. “Where’s Tilly?”

“She wanted to stay upstairs to go through the pictures and scans I took the other day. Wifi is better in the cafeteria than down here.”

“Got it,” Emma replied. “I’m gonna go visit the security office and go over the tapes again.”

“Good idea,” Jeff replied. “I think Walter was the one working Friday night. I wouldn’t put it past him to have fallen asleep on the job.”

Emma bid Jeff farewell and headed up one floor to the security desk. Walter, nicknamed Sleepy, was a very nice guy, but she was pretty sure he was a narcoleptic. Emma had no idea why he was still employed as a security guard. She was all for giving opportunities, but surely there was another job more suited for this guy, right?

When she made it to the desk, she learned that Walter was not in, and wouldn’t be back until the night shift started at 8:00. Resigning herself, Emma sat down to begin reviewing the tape from the other night.

After 45 minutes of reviewing footage from the camera inside the morgue, Emma was nearly ready to pass out. She stood up with the intention of going to get a coffee. However, once she was on the elevator, she decided to first visit John Doe.

Arriving at his floor, she exited the elevator and followed the hall to his room. She knocked on the door frame and he turned to her, flashing her a brilliant smile.

“Swan,” he beamed at her as she walked over to him. He was leaning against the side of the bed, wearing a pair of blue scrub pants and a plain white t-shirt.

“You’re looking well,” she said, returning his smile.

“I feel well. ‘Fit as a fiddle,’ as Dr. Whale says. Other than my lack of memory.”

“You up for a walk?”

“I’d love one,” he replied, and she could swear he had a literal twinkle in his eye.

She looked down at his feet, which she noticed were bare. “Do you have any shoes?”

“Yes, they’re just under the bed there.” He reached down and pulled out a truly ugly pair of sneakers which velcro closures. They looked like orthopedic shoes. He held them up and laughed. “These were apparently left by a former patient. They’re quite a fright to look at, but at least they fit me. Although I do wish we could find the original owner. I hate to think of someone else going without footwear.”

Emma smiled and decided against telling him that whoever left them probably wasn’t missing them at all. He finished putting on his shoes and stood again, standing awkwardly. “Are they comfortable?” she asked.

“Not particularly,” he smiled. “But they’ll do. Now, lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

_Dublin, Ireland, June 15, 1752_

She heard footsteps pounding up the stairs moments before the door flung open and he ran into the room.

“Papa!” she cried as she ran to her father.

“Alice.” He panted heavily, trying to catch his breath. “It’s no use. He’s found us. We can’t run anymore.”

“How did he follow us here?”

“I don’t know, love. He must have a way to track your magic.”

She looked perplexed. “What will we do now? Are we never allowed to have a normal life?”

Papa’s lips set in a hard line and his eyebrows drew close together. “I need to face the demon.”

“Papa No!” She tugged on his arm. “Don’t! He’ll kill you!” Her eyes widened and she clung tighter to him. “Let’s run again. Eventually he will stop looking for us.”

“No, my love, he won’t. He will never stop.” He disentangled her from his arm with a grunt. “If I don’t face him now, what future is that? Always looking over our shoulders. Wondering if someone in the town works for him and is spying on us. I will not let you live such a life. This ends tonight.”

She defiantly grabbed his hand and pulled him to a stop. “The only thing that will end is your life! Papa! Please don’t do this!”

His posture relaxed and looked down at her, tears flooding his eyes. “I’m sorry starfish. I must.”

“Then let me come with you.”

“No! You have to stay here. I need to know that you are safe. That’s the only way I can make it through.”

“But Papa…” she trailed off as her eyes flooded with tears.

He kneeled down to look her in the eye. “No, listen to me. You cannot go near that monster. Promise me, love. No matter what happens to me, promise you will never step foot near that devil if you can avoid it. I’ve done all this to protect you from him. Will you so easily give up my labors?”

“What will you do?” She sniffled in defeat. “How can you convince him to leave us alone?”

“I have a plan, my dear. Trust me, please.”

“I don’t like this Papa. Please don’t leave me.”

He reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek “I know you don’t like this, but you are stronger than you know. If something happens, if I don’t come back, and if that bastard finds you…” he trailed off.

“What, Papa?” she asked, her voice quavering.

“Never stop fighting.” He moved his hand to settle it on her shoulder and tilted his head to force her to meet his gaze. “Starfish, you are so strong. You have abilities I could only dream of. He wants you so he can exploit your gifts. But you are stronger than him. You can fight him.”

Tears were pouring down her cheeks and she gulped huge sobs. “I…” her words were choked out by another sob. “I don’t know, Papa. I don’t even know how to control this power. How can I use it to fight him?”

“I hope we don’t have to find out just yet. I hope that my plan works. But if it doesn’t, then trust in yourself. Listen to your instincts.” He pulled her into a tight embrace. “I love you, Alice. And I am so proud of you. You are my light in a dark world.”

“I love you too, Papa.”

She stood by the window and watched him leave, tears flooding down her cheeks, accompanied by huge gulping sobs. She bit her lip to try and stop its quivering. She paced the room, tried reading a book, and did anything she could think of to occupy her time. But it was no use. Eventually she found herself at the window once more. She wanted to be near her Papa, no matter his wishes. She couldn’t bear the thought of him facing that monster alone. Alice squeezed her eyes tight and held her breath, thinking hard of her Papa and picturing his face. Her eyes stayed shut, but she suddenly felt the air around her change. She could smell the musty odor of grass dampened by an evening rainstorm. Prying one eye open, she saw that she was standing in the woods, just beyond a clearing of trees where a group of men had gathered.

No, she realized with a start. Not a group of men. A mob. Surrounding one man. Papa.

She opened her mouth to call out to him, but thought better of it and instead hid behind a particularly large tree trunk. She didn’t know her magic could do this! She could transport herself to any location just by thinking of it? It was no wonder the evil man Gold wanted her power! She focused her gaze on Papa. If she could change her location with just a thought, could she use her magic to protect him? She stared at him and concentrated her mind on one sentence:  _please don’t let them kill my papa._

Papa stood armed with a sword, his cutlass from his time in the Navy. He’d kept it sharp, and since their first encounter with the evil man, he’d been practicing his skills. He held it out now in a defensive stance as he faced down the semi-circle of five men.

“I admire your bravery, even as futile as it is,” she heard Gold call out, safely shielded by his guards. “Where is the girl?”

“I’ll never give her to you! She is not some possession you can take from me. She is my daughter and I will die to keep her safe!”

“That can be arranged,” the evil man growled, motioning to his henchmen, who started to close in on Papa. “This is your last chance. Give me the girl now and I will spare your life.”

“I am not a coward like you! I will not give her up to spare myself.”

“So be it,” the evil man replied, and his first henchman lunged toward Papa. But Papa was ready, and he parried the blow. He fought the brute of a man for only a few minutes before sinking his sword into the man’s belly. He withdrew the sword with a horrible sucking noise before turning to his next attacker.

One by one he took down the henchman, until he stood in front of Gold, sweating and panting, but otherwise none the worse for wear. Alice was proud of his abilities, but continued to repeat her mantra quietly to herself. “Please don’t let him kill my Papa. Please don’t let him kill my Papa.”

The smaller man heaved a put-upon sigh. “It is impossible to find good help these days.” Gold thrust his arm forward and Papa’s sword flew from his hand and into the other man’s grasp. “I really should be conserving my power, but for you, I’ll make an exception.” Alice could just make out the sneer on his face as he raised his other hand. Papa instinctively lifted his arm to block a blow, but was instead magically frozen in place. Gold brought Papa’s sword down and, in one swift blow, severed his left hand from his wrist.

The enchantment holding him in place lifted and Papa screamed in anguish, grasping his left forearm in his right hand while blood poured down over what remained of his wrist. Gold raised the sword again, going for a killing blow, but Alice felt as her magic reached out and encircled Papa. The blow glanced off the barrier, knocking the sword from Gold’s hand and throwing him back several yards. Alice ran out to the clearing and kneeled beside Papa.

“Alice!” Papa choked out. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s okay Papa. I’ve got you,” she replied in as soothing a tone as possible.

“You little bitch!” Gold screamed as he stood, but before he could advance, Alice wrapped her arms around Papa and squeezed her eyes shut, magically transporting them back home.

When they landed, Alice realized they weren’t at the boarding house in Dublin they’d been hiding in. They were back at their old house, in Dorset, in front of the blacksmith’s shop. The place Alice thought of when she thought of home. Papa clenched his teeth to avoid screaming again. Blood still gushed from the wound. She could tell he wouldn’t last long at this rate.

She moved to put her hands on his arm to try and see if she could use her magic to heal him, but he shoved her away as gently as he could in his current state.

“No, starfish,” he grunted. “Don’t touch it.”

“We have to stop the bleeding, Papa!” She pleaded with him, eyes wide.

His eyes, which had remained mostly dry until now, poured over with shameful tears as he looked upon his daughter. He nodded slowly and she wrapped her small fingers around his mangled wrist, closing her eyes and concentrating with all her might to heal him. She could feel her magic starting and sputtering, but the reservoir was seemingly drained, leaving nothing to allow her to heal him. She opened her eyes and stared at him.

“I’m sorry Papa. I can’t do it.” She felt fresh, hot tears leak from her eyes now as guilt washed over her.

“Don’t…” he grunted. “Don’t blame yourself… ah… star… fish. You’ve… done… so much… bloody hell!” He clenched his teeth, holding back the string of curses he so obviously wanted to let loose, but would not allow himself to do in her presence.

His face cleared for a brief moment as he looked at the shop behind them. It had been taken over by someone else, and she could see the coals of the fire still glowing. Papa stood and stumbled as best he could to the shop. The new occupant stood there, having just placed an oblong disk into the forge. He turned and jumped when he saw Papa and Alice, both covered in blood.

“What happened to you, mate?!” the blacksmith cried as he took them in.

Papa ignored him. “Alice, get the…” he paused, groaning. “Get the tongs. Take that disk out of the fire and put it on the anvil.”

Alice did as he instructed. The shop owner just stood back, watching the scene in abject horror. Papa stumbled to the anvil and stood there, gathering his courage as best he could. “Stand… stand back love,” he said to Alice, and she obeyed. She watched as he took a deep breath, then slammed the open end of his blunted wrist onto the hot metal. A loud hissing noise filled the room, followed by an inhuman shriek of pain from Papa. The sickening smell of burnt flesh permeated the air. Papa kept his wrist on the disk for as long as he could before he collapsed beside the anvil. Alice looked at his arm. Where once there’d been a strong, calloused hand, there now stood a black, smoking hunk of flesh. Alice felt her knees weaken and she fell to floor, letting her sobs overtake her.

 

* * *

 

_Storybrooke, Present Day_

“So,” Emma began, shoving her hands in her pockets as she peered over at her companion. “Have you had any luck in remembering anything?”

“Unfortunately, no. And Dr. Whale cannot find a medical explanation for my memory loss. It’s quite the puzzle. The only thing he’s determined conclusively is that I must be some sort of craftsman. Perhaps a metallurgist.”

“Why does he think that?”

He stopped and held out his hand to her for inspection. “I have a fair number of burn marks in my arms that would indicate I have spent some time in that trade.”

She tentatively reached for his right arm and held it at the wrist, inspecting the scars that indicated he’d on more than one occasion had hot flecks of metal embedded in his skin. “Well,” she said in reply, “at least we now have a name for you.”

“We do? That’s new information to me.”

“Mr. Smith,” she replied with a smile, meeting his gaze with her own.

He returned her expression with a dazzling smile of his own. “Mr. Smith it is, then.” He slowly pulled his arm back. Emma loosened her grip, but before she could retract her hand, he caught it in his own and threaded their fingers together. Their hands dropped to hang between them and they continued their stroll, taking in the pleasantly warm weather.

They walked along for some time, and Emma was struck by how thoroughly at home she felt with this man. She was so comfortable with him, nothing like her relationships with Neal or Graham. In both situations she’d felt a deep sense of inequality, where her partner was providing her with more than she was giving in return. And while she’d only known Mr. Smith for a day, she knew instinctively that a relationship with him would be different. She felt on equal ground with him, which, when she thought about it, was absurd since he was far more dependent on her at the moment. There was also the hugely inconvenient fact that she knew nothing about this man. Still, she couldn’t stop the sense of  _right_  that she felt at his side.

They stopped to watch the reflection of the sky on a small pond.

“So,” Smith began, “Since I can’t tell you about myself, can you tell me about you? I know you work for the constable.”

“Sheriff’s Office,” Emma corrected, “but yes, I’m a deputy.”

“Marvelous. I’ve never known a woman to hold that position before, although I’ve known many who would be much more formidable than some of the men I’ve seen hold that office.”

She smiled up at him. “I am really starting to believe that you must come from some sort of Amish community. It’s 2018. How have you never seen a female cop before?”

“It’s 2018, you say?” he asked suddenly, stopping and staring at the ground, his brow furrowed.

“Yes. Did you just remember something?”

“No… that is, not a fact or a memory. More of an impression. It seems very strange to me, the year. Like I am having a hard time believing so many years have passed.”

“So many years?”

“Hundreds…” he replied, trailing off as he met her gaze. He held her captive with his eyes for a brief moment before tearing away. “But that’s ridiculous. It would be impossible for me to be alive if hundreds of years had passed before I woke up.”

Emma licked her lips and swallowed thickly. “Right…”

“Can you tell me something else?” He asked, his expression pleading with her to change the subject.

“I have a son,” she responded with another smile. “Henry. He’s twelve. He’s not really interested in spending time with his mom anymore.”

“I see,” Smith said, looking dejected. “I am sure he is a fine lad. And the boy’s father?”

Emma stopped again and looked up, placing her hand on his shoulder. “He’s gone. It’s just me and Henry.”

His face relaxed and his eyes lit up. “I know this sounds crazy,” Smith said with a coy smile, “but I think I know what that’s like. Being on your own with a child.”

“You have a child?” Her sense of panic flared at his words and she quickly pulled her hand away. “I need to work harder to find your family. Your child could be all alone!”

He paused and reached out, grabbing her hand once more and squeezing lightly.“I don’t know for sure that I do, but any help you can provide to restore my memories I will gladly accept.”

Emma calmed as she looked at him again. She could get lost in the depths of his brilliant blue eyes. Without fully realizing it, she slowly began to rise on her toes, bringing their mouths closer to one another. When they were just a breath apart, she paused, realizing what she was doing. Part of her desperately wanted to close the gap and capture his lips with her own. But another part of her hesitated, skeptical of the unexplainable connection she felt to this man.

Before she could make up her mind, she heard her name being called from a distance. She lowered down quickly and gently released Smith’s hand, turning to face her brother.

“David,” she replied with a smile. “I was just taking a break from reviewing security footage. You remember the amnesic patient I found yesterday, right? I wanted to check on him.” She gestured to her companion. “David, this is Mr. Smith. Well,” she paused, “that’s what we’re calling him until he remembers his name. Mr. Smith, this is my brother, David.”

Smith took David’s hand in his own and shook it heartily. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” David said, looking at the other man warily. He turned his gaze to Emma. “So, we need to head back to Jeff’s office. The forensic expert he brought in has something to show us.”

“Tilly? Did she say what it was? I met her earlier. She didn’t show me anything new then.”

“No. She just said it might be helpful in our search.”

“Okay, let me walk Mr. Smith back to his room and I’ll join you down there.”

“I’ll walk with you,” David replied in a tone that brokered no argument. They speedily returned Smith to his room and then continued on toward the elevators. Once they were safely on board, David turned to his sister with a disdainful look.

“Were you seriously about to kiss that man, Emma?”

“What? No! Of course not.”

“Good. Don’t give into the urge if it arises again. That man is vulnerable. He doesn’t need you clouding his mind with confusing thoughts while he tries to recover.”

“David!” Emma smacked her brother on the arm with the back of her hand. “You act like I’m some sort of a man-eater. I was not doing anything that could be considered taking advantage of a patient.”

“Could have fooled me,” was all David said in reply. Emma felt shame bloom across her face and remained silent until they reached Jeff’s office. Once there, they were met with Jeff, Tilly, and Graham.

“Emma,” Graham said by way of greeting. “I believe you’ve met Ms. Towers?”

“Tilly, please Sheriff,” the young woman interjected before Emma could respond. Graham nodded in reply.

“Yes, we’ve met,” Emma said. “I hear you have something for us?”

“I do,” Tilly said in an excited manner. She turned to the laptop behind her and clicked through a few windows before finding what she was looking for. “I was able to create a composite sketch of what the body may have looked like when he was alive, based on the scans and pictures Jeff took.

“Okay,” Emma said. “While that’s cool, how does it help us find the body?”

“Emma, please, let her finish,” Graham scolded, and Emma felt like she was 10 years old and being pushed around by James.

Tilly turned her screen so they could see the sketch. It was remarkable. The picture looked like a very handsome man, with an angular jaw, deep set eyes, and a long nose that was slightly bulbous at the end.

“Hey,” David said. “That looks just like Mr. Smith.”

“Pardon?” Tilly asked, perking up and staring at David with more than a little interest.

“Mr. Smith,” David replied. “The amnesic patient Emma found yesterday. She was just upstairs visiting and I met him. The resemblance is almost uncanny. I wonder if they’re related or something like that.”

“You found an amnesic patient yesterday?” Tilly asked, turning to Emma. “No one thought to tell me this sooner?”

“What relevance would it have for you?” Emma asked, getting increasingly annoyed at all the people chastising her. “You’re not here to help us with a missing person case. You’re here to help us find a missing 300 year-old body.”

“Where is this man?” Tilly asked in reply, ignoring Emma’s question.

“Nowhere you’re going to find him,” Emma replied defensively. “He has no relevance to your purpose here. You need to leave him alone.”

Tilly huffed and snapped her laptop shut. “We’re done for the day. I’m going back to my room at Granny’s to continue some more work. Jeff, you have my number if something comes up.”

“Sure Tilly,” Jeff replied softly. “See you later.”

Tilly quickly threw her laptop in a backpack and stomped out of the room.

“What was that about?” Graham asked, turning to Emma.

“I don’t see why she needs to go bothering Mr. Smith. He’s no concern of hers.”

“And I think he’s had enough bothering for today,” David added, causing Emma to throw him an angry glare.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma starts to unravel the mystery of Mr. Smith and finds her own startling connection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you the everyone who gave kudos or reviewewd this story. I am continually overwhelmed by the response. I was sure I wouldn’t get many readers for this story because of the addition of Alice, but with only one or two exceptions, everyone has been lovely and accepting of the story and what I am trying to accomplish with it. Thank you all, and if I haven’t yet replied to your comment, I apologize. I am trying to keep up with it, but real life keeps getting in the way. Feel free to send me a message and we can chat about the story!

_Storybrooke, Sunday, July 1, 2018_

Emma was furious after being dismissed by Graham. She returned to the security office and resumed reviewing the footage. It wasn't long before she felt ready to pass out from boredom while watching the tape speed through a loop of the same hallway outside of the morgue. But then a flicker of something caught her eye. She jerked up and paused the playback before rewinding it a few minutes. The door to the morgue opened from the inside, and out stepped a naked man, walking away from the camera. She couldn’t make out his features, but he had dark shaggy hair, longer on top than on the sides. His shoulders were broad, and, though she couldn’t be sure from the angle, he looked like he was missing his left hand.

She called the security guard over to her. “The corridor this man is walking down, do you know which camera feed monitors that?”

The guard, Bruce, walked over to her and raised his eyebrow as he looked at the paused frame. “Did someone from pysch go on a field trip down to the morgue?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Emma replied.

Bruce helped her find the proper camera, but it didn’t provide much additional information. It only showed the man exiting a door at the end of the hall. The camera was too far away to get a good view of his face, but he was definitely missing his left hand. She had no doubt in her mind now that this was Mr. Smith. 

These events occurred at around 3:00 AM, and she reviewed the rest of the tape until 8:30 AM when Jeff arrived. No other activity occurred. No one else went in or out of the morgue, or the door at the end of the hallway. She asked Bruce about the door, which was marked an emergency exit.

“I don’t see a report of an alarm going off.”

“Ah… yeah,” Bruce replied sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck. “That door is broken. Jeff uses it to take smoke breaks. It’s easier for him than having to go upstairs.”

She glared at him momentarily before deciding that she needed to go see Mr. Smith. Maybe if she took him to the hallway, he might remember how he got down there.

She took the elevator up to his floor and walked down the hall toward his room. As she got closer, she slowed her pace, hearing voices coming from his room. She paused, assuming he was speaking with a doctor or nurse. It only took a moment, however, for her to realize it was a voice she clearly recognized. Hearing it now incensed her.

“Papa, please, don’t you remember? It’s me, Alice!”

That gave Emma pause. What was Tilly’s game? Why was she telling Smith that her name was Alice, and why was she calling him Papa? Before she could round the corner and enter the room, she heard Smith’s reply.

“I… I think so. I don’t really remember much.”

“I know, Papa. Your memory will come back to you, but I need you to trust me now. I am your daughter. I will explain everything in the car, but for now we need to go.”

Emma couldn’t hold back any longer. She stepped into the room and fixed Tilly with a hard stare. “Step away from the patient, Ms. Towers.”

“Deputy Swan, please, you don’t understand,” Tilly pleaded as she held up her hands but stayed rooted in place.

Emma was not sympathetic. “I don’t need to understand. I just heard you trying to kidnap a patient suffering from amnesia. I’m arresting you. You’re coming down to the station with me.”

“No!” Rather than attempt to run, Tilly grabbed Smith’s arm. “This man is my father, and I’m not leaving here without him!” Poor Smith just looked bewildered as he looked over at Tilly, clinging to his right arm.

“First of all,” Emma began in reply, “he can’t be more than ten years older than you, so he definitely can’t be your father. Secondly, if you two are related, I’m going to need some proof. A picture. Some documentation. Something to prove you have any claim to assist in his care.”

“I can’t give you any of that,” Tilly responded.

“Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to arrest you for attempted kidnapping.”

Emma advanced on the other woman and pried her fingers off of Smith’s arm. Fortunately, Tilly seemed to resign herself to her fate and didn’t put up a fight. Emma pulled her handcuffs from the holster at her belt and fastened them around Tilly’s arms, behind her back. A crowd had gathered outside the door during their drama, and Emma directed one of the medical personnel to keep an eye on Mr. Smith. She and Tilly were out the door and down the hall before the patient spoke. He muttered so softly that even the nurse at his side couldn’t quite understand him when he whispered “starfish.”

* * *

“Emma.” Graham said as he looked up to see her enter the station behind a handcuffed Tilly. “What’s going on? Why did you arrest Ms. Towers?”

“I caught her trying to kidnap the John Doe patient at the hospital.”

Graham looked bewildered. Emma could tell he wanted to question her more, but he also didn’t want to undermine her authority in front of Tilly. He settled for giving her a stern look that she clearly knew meant they’d be discussing this as soon as her charge was secured in a holding cell.

Emma took fingerprints and mugshots before leading Tilly to the cell and closing the door. The young woman had been surprisingly silent during the entire ordeal, but just before the lock clicked into place, she looked over at Emma. “You’re making a mistake.  _I’m_  not your enemy.”

“Never thought you were,” Emma replied. “I am just trying to keep that man safe.”

Tilly stood back and looked at her through the bars. “You like him.”

“What?” Emma sputtered in defense. “I mean, he’s a pleasant man, but I hardly know him.”

“That doesn’t usually matter when it comes to attraction.” Tilly crossed her arms across her chest and tilted her head to one side, looking Emma up and down. “I think you’d be good for him. He deserves a little happiness.”

“I really have no idea what you are talking about,” she replied, turning her back on the cell. Graham had already disappeared, likely to the interrogation room. His office was never an ideal place for private conversations, considering it was surrounded on all sides by glass walls. She walked that way. Peeking into the adjoining room where the two-way mirror was housed, she saw him leaning against the table, cleaning under his fingernails with his pocket knife.

She stepped into the room and left the door slightly ajar. “Go ahead,” she said, looking down while gesturing to him.

“Go ahead with what?” Graham asked.

Emma bit back a groan. She hated when he was like this. It was one of the reasons they’d ended their semi-relationship. He could be infuriating when he felt like something was a ‘teaching moment.’ “Go ahead,” she repeated. “Give me your lecture on how I am wasting department resources unnecessarily arresting someone and distracting us from an important investigation.”

“I have no intention of doing that,” he replied. “I called the hospital while you were processing her, and Dr. Whale confirmed your story. If it weren’t for you, the patient would likely be missing now. You did good.”

She stared at him a moment, thrown by his admission. “So why are you pulling me aside now?”

Graham looked up at her sheepishly, his brows knit together. “I’ve been wanting to get you alone for days.”

Before Emma had a chance to respond, Graham stood up and, in one swift motion, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her body flush with his own. His head descended, bringing his lips to meet hers. Emma felt alarm bells ringing in her brain. This was all wrong. He was not the man she wanted to be kissing. No matter her past history with Graham, she couldn’t get the image of Mr. Smith out of her head. Coming back to her senses, she pushed Graham away and sent him careening backward into the table.

“What are you doing?!” She hissed as she tensed her shoulders and clenched her fists.

“I thought it would be obvious,” Graham said as he stepped closer. “I miss you, Emma. I’ve missed you so much lately. I’ve been dropping hints about wanting to get back together with you for months.” He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she shifted her body until it was just out of his grasp.

“I’ve noticed,” she replied, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “But I’ve also been dropping my own, not so subtle hints to let you know that I’m not interested. I don’t want to get back together with you, Graham!”

“And why not?” he asked in a huff, standing up and crossing his arms over his broad chest. She cursed her traitorous mind as she watched the movement closely. Part of her, the animalistic, sex-starved part, wanted to let him wrap those strong arms around her again. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that sex with Graham, no matter how meaningless, would be a betrayal of Mr. Smith.

Graham was looking at her expectantly, and she realized she’d been silent for too long. She took another step back, bumping into the door.

“You’re my boss, for one thing,” she finally replied. “And also, we’ve tried being together and it didn’t work out.”

“It’s a small town, Emma. It won’t be the first or last time a couple works together. And besides,” he said, lifting an eyebrow and giving her a sinful smirk, “you didn’t work here last time we were together. Think of the fun we could have now.”

“Ugh! Gross! Graham, I don’t think of you that way anymore.”

A shadow passed over Graham’s face and he straightened up to his full height. “You’re into that patient, aren’t you?! I thought David was being an overprotective brother, but you really are attracted to that John Doe.”

“Fuck you, Graham. It’s none of your business.”

“Actually, it  _is_  my business. In fact, I just sanctioned you arresting someone else for harassing that man.” His arms dropped to his sides. “I’m going to the hospital to follow up with the patient and to keep looking for the bog body. You stay here with Ms. Towers. I don’t want to hear about you leaving the station or going near the hospital. You’re on the night shift tonight.”

He walked out of the room without saying anything else. Emma clenched her fists again and huffed a deep sigh. When she felt calmer, she dialed Henry’s cell phone to tell him she was working the night shift unexpectedly. He was at Avery’s house once more, and Avery’s mom had no issue with him spending the night.

Once she was satisfied Henry would be taken care of, she returned to the bullpen and took a seat at her desk, which unfortunately faced the holding cells. Tilly leaned on the bars, her arms hanging free.

“Everything alright?” she asked with a smirk.

“If I were you, I’d shut up if you want to eat dinner anytime soon,” Emma countered with a scowl.

“I can get out of here anytime I want,” Tilly replied.

“Is that so? Then why are you still here?”

“Because I want to talk to you.” Tilly’s voice was strong and confident, and despite her disinclination, Emma’s head snapped up to meet the other woman’s gaze.

“I’ll humor you,” Emma responded, leaning back in her chair and eyeing the other woman skeptically.

“That man that you call Mr. Smith, or John Doe, his name is Killian Jones. He’s my father. He is also the bog body you’ve been trying to track down for the last two days.”

Emma stared at her for a minute before she cracked a smile. “I  _almost_  believed you. Try again.”

“I’m not lying to you. Don’t lie to me,” Tilly said, drawing up her mouth in frustration. “You do believe me. You’ve known since you saw the security camera footage. You just are having trouble trusting what you saw.”

“How…” Emma’s mouth gaped open. “How did you know about that footage? I didn’t even get a chance to tell Graham about that.”

“I saw it when we touched, when you were handcuffing me. It’s why I was willing to come along with you.”

“That’s not possible.” Emma sat up and the ancient office chair snapped forward, forcing her to rest her wrists on her knees.

“Neither is a 300 year-old corpse reanimating,” Tilly said with a smirk, “but you and I know both know it’s happened, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Emma tilted her head and considered the other woman. “Say I did believe you. What’s the end goal here?”

“A very bad man killed my Papa in front of me when I was a child. He buried Papa’s body in the bog. The bog made me a promise that I would be reunited with him, when the time was right.”

“Seriously? That would make you-”

“About 275 years old? Yeah.” She broadened her smirk and lifted an eyebrow. “Told you I’m older than I look.”

“But, how could the  _bog_  make a promise? That doesn’t even make sense. The bog isn’t alive. Not like that.”

“Sure it is!” Tilly replied, throwing her hands up and pacing a few laps around her cell. “It’s magic, Emma. Don’t you believe in magic?”

“Not really.”

“Of course you don’t,” Tilly replied. “Magic is all around us! Some of us, like me and you, are even conduits for it.” She paced once more and when she came back around, pointed an accusing finger at Emma. “You know, that’s the problem with this world! Everyone wants a magical solution for their problem, and everyone refuses to believe in magic!”

“You still haven’t told me what the end goal is,” Emma countered, deciding to sidestep the question of magic. “Why would your father come back to life now?”

“I have no idea why he’s back. But I’ve been keeping an eye on this area for a long time, waiting for him to reappear. He spent his life protecting me when I was a child. Now that I’ve found him, it’s my turn to protect him. I need to get him out of this town and away from the man who killed him.”

“The man that killed him?” Emma asked in a deadpan manner, losing any semblance of belief in this story the longer Tilly talked. “He’s here? And I suppose he’s 300 some-odd years old as well?”

“He’s your mayor,” Tilly replied matter-of-factly. “And I don’t know his exact age, but he’s certainly a lot older than me.”

“Mayor Gold?” Emma scoffed. “I mean, yeah he’s old, but he’s not 300 years old.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure why I even started listening to you.”

“He may have gone under another name at times, but he has been in control of this town since its inception. Check your town records.” Tilly lifted her chin and gave Emma a knowing look.

“Fine. I will,” Emma said, standing up and stepping into Graham’s office. She booted up the ancient computer while purposely avoiding meeting Tilly’s eyes.

* * *

_Storybrooke, Monday, July 2, 2018_

A none-too-gentle hand grabbed Emma’s shoulder and shook her, startling her awake. Her head flew up from the desk where she’d been resting it, cradled on her arms. Snapping her head in the direction of the hand, she saw Graham looming over her with a stern expression. Emma wiped her hand down her face and yawned.

“I suppose you’re still pissed at me,” she said, not meeting his gaze.

“It doesn’t help that I found you sleeping on the job.”

“Oh please Graham. Don’t pretend to be upset about that. It’s not the first time any of us have fallen asleep on the night shift.” She looked over at the holding cell. Tilly was asleep, curled up on the small cot. “What’d you find out from the patient?” she asked as nonchalantly as possible, still not looking at him.

“Nothing you need to know,” Graham replied with a scowl.

Emma opened her mouth to throw him a snarky reply, but instead let loose a loud yawn.

“Go home, Emma,” Graham said. “Get some real sleep. I’ll take things from here.”

She hesitated a moment, contemplating protesting his command, but then thought better of it. “Okay.” She started gathering up her things, picking up the legal pad she’d been taking notes on the night before, when trying to find information to disprove Tilly’s story. She’d had very little luck finding anything about the town online.  

Once outside the station, the fresh air revived her and Emma decided she wasn’t done with her search yet. Determined to find an answer to this conundrum, she walked the short distance between the police station and the library.

“Emma!” Belle, the town’s librarian, said with a smile much too cheerful for a Monday morning. She tossed her loose, deep brown curls over her shoulder and stood from her perch behind the circulation desk. “What brings you in today?” She rounded the counter and stood before Emma, balancing gracefully in her four-inch heels.

“I was hoping you could help me with some research about the town’s history.”

Belle looked  at her with a furrowed brow. “For the Independence Day parade?”

“Yes,” Emma responded. “It’s for Henry… a summer project.”

“Oh, well, sure,” Belle said, still a hint of uncertainty in her tone. “So, I don’t have many books on the town itself, but you’re in luck. I’ve been putting together an exhibit of town history and town artifacts that I am planning to reveal on Wednesday. I’m willing to let you get an advanced look. Do you want to come back later today with Henry?”

“Actually, would you mind if I looked it over now? Henry hasn’t really asked for my help yet, but I can feel it coming. He’s getting to that age where he doesn’t need me much, and I’d really like a chance to save the day at least one more time.”

Belle smiled in reply. “Say no more. Follow me.” She turned and walked down a hall behind the stacks, leading Emma to a door labeled ‘Storage.’ “I’ve had to convert this closet for the time being, but I am hoping we can set up a more permanent home for this at Town Hall after I reveal it.”

She opened the door and led Emma into a small room lined with card tables covered with white tablecloths. On prominent display was a framed copy of the town charter, dated 1755 and signed by the mayor, one Roderick Gold.

“Belle… is Mayor Gold related to the Roderick Gold that signed the town charter?”

“So the story goes. I believe he can trace his roots back to before the first settlement in this area.”

Emma perused a few other items and saw that, with a few exceptions, most of the important events in the town were signed by someone in the Gold family. Occasionally there would be a different name in the mix, but as best she could tell, the Gold family controlled the town for the entirety of its existence.

“How… unique that his family roots go back so far. Are there any pictures of his ancestors? I’m honestly just curious now.”

“I think I have a print of a portrait of Roderick Gold. Hang on.” She turned and thumbed through a box holding several photographs sheathed in protective sleeves. “Ah, here we go,” she said, pulling one out. She paused before handing the document to Emma. “Wow, the family resemblance is really strong.”

Emma took the photo and stared at it. The man in the photo did indeed look very much like the Mr. Gold she had sat across from on Friday morning. “It really is,” Emma replied. “Do you have a picture of any other members of the family?”

“I think maybe one more.” She returned to the box and quickly sifted through the contents before extracting another photo. “I’ve never looked at these side-by-side before, but now that I have, I could swear they look like the same person.”

“Is there a chance they could be?”

“Not likely. This is a print of a daguerreotype taken in 1845. Roderick Gold died in 1792, so there is no way he could be the man in this picture.”

“I guess not, but you certainly could have fooled me.”

Belle showed Emma a few other items. The librarian seemed content to believe there was nothing more to the story than an influential family with strong genetic makeup, but Emma couldn’t help but feel it led credence to Tilly’s story.

* * *

Exiting the library, Emma walked to her car and started the engine. She felt like she was on autopilot as she drove, but when she parked the car, she realized she hadn’t gone home. Instead, she was parked outside the hospital. She took that as a sign and walked inside to go visit Mr. Smith.

When she reached the door to his room, he wasn’t there. She had a short moment of panic before she heard him walk up from behind her.

“Emma?” he asked, his voice a balm to her frayed nerves. She turned and granted him a brilliant smile.

“Smith… good morning. How are you? I was worried when I didn’t see you in your room.”

“I needed to go stretch my legs. I’m not used to being so idle.”

“Oh?” she asked, genuinely curious. “Did you remember something?”

He looked at the floor and brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “I have, but you’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“I’ve heard a lot of crazy things in the past 24 hours. You’d have to try hard to outdo those.”

He smiled, revealing the crinkles in the corners of his eyes and causing her stomach to do a flip flop. She internally berated herself. Why was she so attracted to this man?

“Why don’t you come in and sit down with me?” He led her into the room and took a seat in one of the hard plastic portable chairs for visitors, leaving Emma the comfortable-looking armchair. The door was cracked open, but they were mostly alone. Smith took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. He then rested his hand on his knee and began nervously bouncing it. Emma laid her hand on his, and he seemed instantly calmer

His tongue peeked out from between his lips as he stared into her eyes. She wanted nothing so much in that moment as to capture that tongue with her own and kiss the life out of him. She settled for squeezing his hand tighter, and he responded by threading their fingers together. It felt good. It felt  _right_.

“Do you remember that girl that was in here yesterday?” he asked.

“How could I not? I arrested her and spent last night watching her sit in our holding cell.”

“I know this is crazy, but I believe she  _is_  my daughter. As you were taking her away, the memories hit me like a wave. I had a daughter. Her name was Alice, and she was my little starfish. I don’t remember a lot of the details. Just… impressions. But I remember that something happened to rip me away from her. And I remember being scared, really scared, that I was putting her in danger. I believe I spent most of my adult life protecting her.”

The parallels to the things Tilly told her last night did not escape Emma’s notice. She was shook, but tried hard not to let it show. “Did you remember anything else?” She kept her tone as even as possible as she spoke.

“I have memories of having two hands and working in what looks like a forge. I think I  _was_  a blacksmith.” He paused and looked down. “And I don’t think I lived in a time with electricity. Like I said… I sound crazy.”

Emma moved her right hand to caress his knuckles, keeping her other hand intertwined with his. “Have you mentioned this to anyone else?”

“No. I’m afraid to tell anyone. I heard another patient talking about the psych ward, and it doesn’t seem like a place I want to go.” He looked up at her with wide eyes. “You won’t tell Dr. Whale, will you?”

“No way,” she responded, giving him a reassuring smile. “Your secret is safe with me.”

He stared into her eyes again, and she was once more hit with the overwhelming urge to kiss him, just as she had felt the day before, on their walk. Before she could move closer to him or take any further action, there was a knock and the door was pushed open. A hospital employee shuffled in and placed a tray on the table suspended over his bed. “Good morning Mr. Doe,” she said with a cheerful smile.

“Good morning to you, Dora,” he responded with a wink. Emma saw the other woman blush before taking her leave. The interruption had ruined the moment, and the lull in conversation made Emma yawn.

“I should get home. I worked the overnight shift last night. Let me go get a few hours sleep, and I’ll come back later and we can talk some more.”

“That sounds brilliant, love. Thank you for listening to me.”

“Thank you for sharing with me.” She squeezed his hand and stood up. “See you later,” she said, and then, before she could give into the urge to kiss him, she fled the room.

* * *

As she drove by the station on her way home, Emma noticed that Graham’s squad car was gone. She decided she needed one more detour before heading home. Parking her Bug, she walked into the building and headed for the bullpen.

Entering the room, Emma found Tilly reclining on the cot in her cell, one leg dangling off the side. No one else was there.

“Come to continue our chat, have you?” Tilly asked without changing her position or acknowledging Emma in any other way.

“Give it a rest,” Emma bit out in reply. “What else do you know about Gold?”

Tilly sat up and turned her body so her other leg came to the floor. She then stood and walked to the bars. “He’s not a man,” she said, her voice harsh. “He’s a power hungry sorcerer.”

“A sorcerer… right.”

“He doesn’t have his own power. He can only maintain it by siphoning it off from others. He prefers to prey on young girls. He enslaves them and uses them until they have nothing left to give, then he kills them.”

“Is that why he killed your father?”

“Yes. Papa was trying to keep me safe from him.”

Her response echoed the words the man had spoken earlier. “Because you have magic? Is that why you’ve lived for such a long time?”

“It is. I can tell you don’t believe me completely, but trust me when I say that I come from a long line of powerful witches. All the power in our bloodline is concentrated on the youngest member of the family. It is the job of all the older witches to protect the youngest. Except for my mother. She decided to neglect her duties in favor of her own freedom. She abandoned me. If it weren’t for Papa, Gold would have taken me as a child and I never would have had the chance to learn how to escape him.”

Knowing that Tilly was abandoned as a baby, just like she was, softened Emma’s heart toward the other woman. She stepped back slightly and tilted her head, looking at Tilly in a new light. “What do you mean she abandoned you for her own freedom?”

“She was the youngest and had all the power. Gold hunted her down. Rather than seek out her family for protection, she seduced Papa and used magic to make sure she got pregnant. When I was born, she left me for dead in a field. I was lucky that the man who found me had seen her leaving, and knew she’d been with Papa. He left me on Papa’s doorstep. Papa didn’t know about my magic until I was older. Once word got out, Gold came looking and tried to trick Papa by saying he wanted me to become his ward. When that didn’t work, he hunted us, his attacks getting worse every time. We fled to America, but he found us here and killed Papa right in front of me.”

“So how’d you get away?”

“I had a little help, and I was able to wound him long enough to make an escape. But my running caused Gold to take another girl captive, and I wasn’t strong enough to save her, or the others who came after.” Tears were pooling in Tilly’s eyes as she spoke.

“When did that happen?”

“Maybe a little more than 200 years ago? The first few years were really foggy. I don’t remember much other than a constant need to run. I spent a lot of the time just trying to get away from him and figure out a way I could kill him. Then I started researching bogs and ways that I could reunite with Papa.”

“So wait… are you saying that even now he has a girl in his possession that he is using… for power?”

“Yes. I’ve followed him for a long time. Last I heard he’d taken a girl from a bloodline almost as strong as mine: Anastasia Belfry. That would have been about 25 years ago. Check your missing persons records. I’m sure you’ll find a report about her.”

“Say I believe you, and I’m  _not_ saying I do… if he has this Anastasia, what is he doing with her?”

“He’s spent the last twenty-five years siphoning off her magic. Her power is waning. I can feel it. Gold’s source of power is nearly gone, and when she’s tapped out, he’ll kill her. He’s probably already looking for a new captive. Someone else is in danger.”

Emma thought back to the meeting on Friday, when the lights had flickered and she somehow  _knew_  she’d done something to make that happen. She thought of the way Gold had looked at her, as if he was seeing her for the first time. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. “This is all ridiculous. Magic isn’t real.”

Tilly groaned and stepped back from the bars. “We’ve been over this Emma! Of course it’s real!” She paused her rant, taking a good long look at the other woman. “Shall I show you? Do you want a demonstration?”

Emma rolled her eyes in response, but stood back and gestured to Tilly to get on with it.

Tilly stepped closer once more and weaved her hand through the bars, placing it over the lock on the cell door. Emma watched as the other woman’s hand glowed bright orange. The bolt on the door opened with a loud click, and Tilly pushed the door gently to make it swing outward. She stood in the doorway, not daring to cross the threshold of the cell.

“Believe me now?”

“Um…” Emma couldn’t find words to reply. After a moment or two of stammering, she finally cried out “you mean to tell me you could have left the entire time I was asleep and you didn’t?”

“I wanted to talk with you,” Tilly replied, still not moving from her spot. “Did I make you believe?”

“You did. I’m not sure I’m totally convinced, but I believe enough.”

Emma and Tilly stood staring at one another for some time before the door to the station opened and Henry entered, followed by his dad.

“Mom!” Henry cried out excitedly. “We’ve been looking all over for you! Look who came for the parade!” He gestured to his father.

“Neal. Wow,” Emma responded, trying to temper her sarcasm. “I never thought I’d see the day when you wanted to attend the parade.”

Neal shrugged. “Well, you know… Um, Henry,” he began again, pointing to their son, “he’s been telling me all about the float he’s been helping with, and it got me excited for the parade like I haven’t been in a long time.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Emma said with a genuine smile.

“Mom, who’s that?” Henry asked, nodding his head in Tilly’s direction.

It was Emma’s turn to stammer. “That is… um… she’s…”

“Matilda Towers,” Tilly said, stepping closer to Henry and shaking his hand. “I’m a security consultant. Sheriff Humbert brought me in to make some recommendations for upgrades to the station.”

“Cool,” Henry said with a big grin at the same time Neal said “It’s about time.”

Emma inadvertently let loose another yawn. “Hey kid,” she said, as she fished a $20 bill out of her pocket, “why do you run to Granny’s and get me the biggest coffee she has and some donuts for all of us to share?”

“Sure mom,” he said trying and failing to show how excited he was for donuts.

When he was clear from the building, Emma moved toward Neal, intent to take him to the interrogation room and ask why he didn’t let her know he was going to be in town. But, when she turned to look at his face, she saw his skin was white as a sheet and he was staring at Tilly, a terrified expression on his face.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked the other woman after a long pause.

“I could ask the same of you, Baelfire,” Tilly responded, not missing a beat. “I thought we both agreed we would leave this town and never return?”

“You obviously didn’t heed that warning!” Neal’s voice rose to the point of creating an echo in the small space.

“Neither did you, I see. Not only did you come back, you managed to father a child and carry on the very bloodline you were so intent on destroying.”

“You can’t hold that against me.  _He_  tricked me! I didn’t find out until after the kid was born. You can’t fault me for wanting to know my own son!”

“Hold on!” Emma cried out, interrupting Tilly before she could reply. “I don’t know what the hell either of you are talking about, but it sounds like you are speaking about  _my_  son, and if that’s the case, then you better stop before he walks in here and overhears your bullshit.”

Tilly looked truly chastened. She took a deep breath before meeting Emma’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Emma. As you probably surmised, this man… Neal… was it?” She paused and Neal gave a tight nod. “Neal and I have some history. Related to his father.”

“Wait… his father? Mr. Darling?” Emma asked, truly at her wit’s end by now.

“Well… yeah… George isn't actually…” Neal trailed off as he scratched the back of his neck and intently studied his shoes.

She swung her head to glare at Neal. “Wait… what?! George isn’t your father?”

“Um… no. You remember Wendy, George’s daughter? She helped me out when I was in a tight spot, and convinced her mom and dad to take me in. I told them I was an orphan.”

“When was this?”

“Um… like 20 years ago? It was before they moved to Storybrooke. I never would have gone near that family if I thought they’d end up living here.”

Emma huffed an exasperated sigh. “I mean, Neal, come on, I know you hate this town, but that seems a bit extreme.”

“No, you don’t get it,” Neal said, vigorously shaking his head. “I  _needed_  to stay away from this place!” He pounded his fist against the wall. “But then  _he_  threatened Wendy, and I had to come back here to keep her safe.”

“Wait, who threatened her? George?”

“No! My dad! Mr. Gold.”

Emma froze. “Your… dad is the mayor?”

“Yeah,” Neal replied, furrowing his brow. “Look, I’m sorry I never told you.”

“You’re sorry?!” She advanced on her ex and slammed her palms into his shoulders, shoving him into the wall behind him. “I’ve just spent this morning hearing about how Mayor Gold is some crazy ancient sorcerer who steals magic and kills people, and now I learn that he’s also Henry’s  _real_  grandfather?!”

Neal’s gaze drifted to Tilly, his eyes pleading for her to interject, but Emma wasn’t finished.

“So, if you know her,” she said, pointing to Tilly, “how old does that make you?”

“Um… like a little over 280 years old?”

Emma stepped back and stared at him, mouth agape. “What. The. Fuck. So, that means you have magic too?”

“No!” Neal cried out, a look of disgust marring his features. “He wouldn’t let me age! He kept me young, because I told him I wouldn’t ever have a child of my own. He told me until I came to my senses and agreed to carry on the bloodline, he would keep me young. He only let me get older when he found out about Wendy, thinking I would knock her up, but it wasn’t like that with us. She’s like a sister to me.”

“So… you and me… what was that, some kind of spell?”

“No, Ems, of course not. I really did love you. But I never wanted to get you pregnant. I think he tampered with your birth control.”

Emma stared blankly at Neal for a moment before the door to the station opened and Henry walked in. She snapped her head in his direction. Fortunately, it seemed like he hadn’t overheard any of their conversation.

“Where’s the consultant?” Henry asked innocently, likely counting how many more donuts he could have now that their party was smaller.

Emma looked back to where Tilly had stood not a moment before. But she was now nowhere to be seen. It was like she’d disappeared into thin air.

“She had to leave,” Neal replied smoothly, his lies coming to him as easily as breathing air.

“I need to go too,” Emma said, taking the large paper cup of coffee Henry held. “Thanks for the coffee, kid. Are you okay to stay with your dad for today?”

“Yeah mom, I’m good,” Henry replied with a silly grin.

Emma moved her gaze to Neal. “You’re gonna keep him safe today, right?” She fixed her mouth in a hard line and narrowed her eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” Neal replied, holding his hands up in surrender.

“You’d better. And don’t disappear. We’re not done talking.”

“Is… everything okay?” Henry asked.

“Yeah kid,” Emma responded, not moving her gaze from Neal. “Your dad and I just need to clear a few things up.” She turned to look at her son, and her gaze softened. She put her hand on the back of his head and leaned in to kiss his temple. “Have fun today. I love you.” She spared one more intimidating glare at Neal before she left the station to find Tilly.

* * *


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Tilly face down Gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The last installment of the Man of Misthaven. It’s hard to believe this ride is already over! I have had so much fun writing this story and have loved hearing everyone’s feedback. Thank you all for your support and flails. It makes me feel awesome that I can write something that people can connect to like this. If you’ve been following CSSNS, you’ll see me again in August when I post a one-shot loosely based in the world of Angel the Series. In the meantime, take a gander at all the other amazing content. Seriously, this event is awesome!

_Storybrooke, Monday July 2, 2018_

Tilly was gone, and Emma knew where she was heading. She slid back into her car and raced to the hospital as fast as she could, arriving just in time to see Tilly escorting Smith- no, Killian- toward a blue sedan. He was still wearing his blue scrub pants and white t-shirt, those hideous shoes on his feet.

“Swan!” he called out when he saw her. He pulled away from Tilly, much to her chagrin, and jogged over to Emma.

He was panting when he got to her, and she put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “Apologies, love. I don’t remember being so out of shape.”

“Your body is still recovering, Papa!” Tilly chastised him as she caught up. “Let me take you home and you can rest.”

“Wait,” Emma said, catching on to her meaning. “Do you mean you’re taking him to Boston?”

Tilly set her jaw and straightened her shoulders. “He needs to recover. The doctors here won’t know what to do with him. They’ll label him crazy and lock him away somewhere. With me he’ll be safe and can regain his strength and his memories in peace.”

Emma couldn’t help but see Tilly’s logic, but she didn’t like it. “Am I ever going to see you again?” she asked Killian, tears flooding her eyes as she spoke.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Tilly cut in before Killian could reply. “You have a child who is the grandson of the man that killed Papa and wants to use me for my power. We need to stay as far away from you as possible.” She looked uneasy as she spoke. After a short pause, she grabbed Killian’s arm. “Come on, Papa…”

“Now hang on!” Killian cried out, pulling himself free of her grip. “I may not have all my memories, Starfish, but I am still your father and I do get a say in this.” He turned to Emma and grabbed her hand in his. “Swan… thank you for everything you’ve done. I don’t know why I came back, but I do know that I am infinitely grateful that you are the one who found me. You are my savior. But, more than that, I feel a pull to you I can’t describe. Do you feel it as well?”

“Yes,” Emma replied, her voice shaky.

“I  _will_  see you again,” he continued. “We aren’t finished here. I want to get to know you. To learn everything I can about you.” He reached his hand up and cupped her cheek, running his thumb along her lower lip. Emma pursed her lips and pressed a gentle kiss to his thumb, her gaze holding steady with his. After a long moment, she finally broke the stare to grab him by the neck and pull his lips to her own. They were warm and wet, wrapping gently around her bottom lip. His upper teeth grazed the sensitive flesh on the inside of her mouth, his nose rubbing against her cheek as he tilted his head to get a better angle. His hand slid behind her neck to pull her even closer while she ran her fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Their breaths were short, each emitting frantic puffs of air through their noses in an attempt to prolong the connection.

When they couldn’t go any longer, they broke apart, Emma resting her forehead against his. The rest of their surroundings slowly came back into focus, gradually reminding her that Tilly still stood there watching them. Her expression remained stern before she cracked a smile.

“Okay, you two are adorable together,” she said with a giggle, before her face resumed a neutral expression. “After all you did for me, Papa, I can't deny you a love like this.” She turned to Emma. “Give me time to get us settled somewhere new. Somewhere he is safe. I promise I will reach out to you when the time is right.”

Emma nodded, still too dumbstruck by the kiss to say anything else.

Killian looked at her again. “There’s not a day that will go by I won’t think of you.”

“Good,” Emma responded simply, wrapping her arms around his neck. Always better with actions than words, she pressed another gentle kiss to his lips before pulling away and facing the other woman. “Do you need to make any stops before leaving town?”

“Everything I need is in the car,” Tilly replied.

“I’ll follow you out of town. Make sure you get out safe.”

* * *

 

_Storybrooke, May 16, 1761_

Alice’s fingers shook as she scratched out another mark on the walls of her room. She always thought her prison would be a dank stone cellar, but Gold kept her upstairs in a small attic room of his stately new house, in this fancy new town where he was mayor. She never went outside, but she could hear things. He held her captive with a leather cuff which restrained her and kept her from using her magic in any active manner. The room had a straw mattress in one corner and a copper tub behind a painted screen on the opposite side. Gold attended to her himself, not trusting any of his servants. He’d enchanted the room so that no one but he could open the door, and no one from the outside could hear her.

She’d go mad if it weren’t for the fact that  _she could hear them_. In fact, she’d learned to focus her abilities in the last years so that she could hear a conversation happening miles away. It was her only solace. She was rarely allowed books and only caught fleeting glimpses of the world outside through the small circular window in her room. Her view faced a thicket of woods, and she had few activities to fill her hours. Her only companions were a small stuffed rabbit Gold had given her during the first year of her captivity, in an attempt to befriend her and make his task easier (it hadn't worked, but he let her keep the rabbit anyway), and a discarded top hat she’d found flattened under a pile of clothing he’d brought her to mend.

The only clothes she possessed were those she'd repurposed from the mending piles. Today she wore a plain blue dress that she’d dressed up as best she could with a white apron. Her feet, usually bare, were adorned with stockings and delicate white slippers she’d fashioned out of scraps of material she’d collected over the years. She moved from the wall where she marked her days to look out the window, observing the stars.

“Hello stars,” she said. “You’re rather chatty tonight, aren’t you?” She looked at the pattern of lights in the sky, observing as best she could from her limited vantage point. “Do you know what the stars say today, Mr. Hatter?” She looked down at the hat perched on her bed. “Well, the second star to the right is pointing North, which can only mean one thing.” She pulled a smile and settled on the bed next to Hatter and Mr. Rabbit. “Today’s my birthday.”

She sighed as she looked down at her ‘friends.’ “I wish Papa were here. He always made my birthdays so special.”

“Did you say it’s your birthday?”

She heard a voice from behind her and screamed, jumping up and turning around to see a boy with dark hair and dark eyes. He looked to be only a few years younger than herself. “Who are you, and how did you get in here?”

“My name is Baelfire. I’m Mr. Gold’s son. Who are you?”

“I’m Alice… but, I don’t understand. No one other than Mr.Gold should be able to open that door.”

“He enchanted it with blood magic. No one but he or someone who shares his bloodline can open it.”

“What are you doing here?” Alice asked, suddenly wary. “Are you going to take my power too?”

“No, I want to help you.”

“You… you do? Why?” After years of imprisonment, Alice had lost her ability to trust others.

“Because I’m his prisoner as much as you are.” She looked at him with narrowed eyes, and he heaved a sigh in response. “How old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps 13 or 14?”

Baelfire grunted in frustration. “I am six and twenty! He’s bewitched me so that I won’t age. I’m never going to reach manhood until I agree to his conditions.”

“And what are those?”

“To continue the bloodline and impregnate a girl.”

“What?!” Alice cried out in shock. “I don’t want to birth a child. Not with you!”

“Calm down! I don’t want a child with you either. I want to be free of him. To live my own life. If I free you, can you lift his curse on me?”

“I don’t know…” Alice trailed off. “I don’t know much about my magic, and he doesn’t give me a chance to practice it.” She held up her left arm to display the cuff she wore.

“Well, even if you can’t lift the curse, you can use your magic to help me get away from him. I can find someone else to help remove the enchantment.”

Recognizing her opportunity, Alice stepped forward. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

“Wait! We need a plan. We can’t just run. We won’t make it far. My father owns this town. We need a way to incapacitate him. And we need money, and transportation. And somewhere to go.”

“So what do you suppose we do?”

“Let me work on a plan. I will come back tomorrow to discuss it with you more. I have to go now. He’ll be home any moment. But I promise I will be back.”

He turned to leave, but Alice called out “wait!”. He turned to face her once more. “Thank you, Baelfire.”

“You’re welcome. And happy birthday, Alice.” With that he was gone, but he’d given Alice the best present she could ask for. Once again, she had hope.

* * *

 

_Storybrooke, Monday July 2, 2018_

The drive out of town was not long, and soon Emma led Tilly and Killian to the road that ran alongside the bog and led to the interstate. They’d just reached the edge of the bog when Emma’s car began having engine trouble.

“Really? Now?” she cried as she pulled to the side of the road. Tilly followed suit and pulled over as well.

“Are you okay?” she called as she stuck her head out of the driver’s side window.

“Yeah,” Emma said, getting out of the car and walking toward the other vehicle. “Just having some car trouble. My Bug is tempermental.” She caught Killian’s eye and the touch of sadness she saw there. “But you guys can go on. Just follow this road for about 10 miles and you’ll run into 95.”

Tilly opened her mouth to reply, but Killian grabbed her arm and gave her a look. Instead of saying anything else, they both exited the car and walked over to Emma.

“Can we give you a ride back into town?” Tilly offered.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just call David. He can come give me a jump.” She shoved her hands in the back pocket of her jeans. “Don’t you guys need to get going?”

“We can wait with you until your brother arrives,” Killian said. Tilly gave him a pointed look, but said nothing more.

Emma reached out to Killian and threaded her fingers with his. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she began, “but I’d rather you guys just got on your way. Not that I don’t enjoy spending a little more time with you, but it’s going to be hard to see you go, and every moment you stay longer just delays the inevitable.”

“That’s not the the way I see it,” he replied, stepping closer. “I am glad to have this chance to see you, one more time.” He untangled their fingers and lifted his hand to brush his knuckles against her cheek.

Emma felt tears flood her eyes once more. She felt like she’d never cried this much in her life before. “Killian…” she said with a sniffle, “I’m not really a ‘tearful goodbye kiss’ person.” She looked at his soft gaze, his blue eyes conveying so much emotion. “Well, maybe just this once.” She surged forward and grabbed his face in her hands, pulling his lips to her own. This kiss was soft, less passionate and more loving. It was brief, a quick meeting of mouths before she broke the contact and pulled him into a hug, snaking her hands across his shoulders as he circled his arms around her waist. They held each other for a brief moment longer, Emma permitting herself one last mournful sigh.

She slowly pulled away, sliding her hand down to rest on Killian’s chest, just above his heart. “Goodbye,” she said, although she remained wrapped in his embrace.

“Going somewhere, dearie?”

Emma jumped and turned quickly, shielding Killian with her body as she stared down Mayor Gold.

“You!” Tilly cried, running to the other side of her father. “You’re not taking my Papa away from me again!”

“You feeble minded girl,” Gold replied. “Killing your father was never my aim. And yet... somehow you were able to keep your promise and bring him back…” He paused and stared at them quizzically. “Well, no matter. He will soon be dealt with.”

Emma slightly inclined her head to Tilly. “Get back in the car and go. I’ll deal with the mayor.”

“No, love,” Killian replied. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with! I won’t leave you alone with him.”

“Papa,” Tilly said through clenched teeth. “I’ll stay and assist Emma. Get in the car. I will enchant it to drive you to safety.”

“I’m not leaving you either, starfish!”

“Enough of this,” Gold cried out suddenly, and threw his hand out, directing a burst of magic toward Killian. It hit his stomach and knocked him back ten feet.

“No!” Tilly cried, running to his side.

Emma turned to follow, but found she was stuck in place. She could not will her body to move from the waist down. “Not so fast, Miss Swan,” she heard Gold utter from behind her. “I’ll deal with you in a moment.”

He walked past her. Emma was able to twist just enough to see over her shoulder. He stood before Tilly as she knelt next to her father.

“You bastard!” she cried out. “Why are you trying to kill him?!”

“As I said” Gold began with a sneer, his voice cold and menacing, “killing your father was never my object. He was just a pest who got in my way one too many times. I have always ever only wanted to drain your immense well of power. When I do that, and when I absorb Miss Swan’s magic, I will have enough power to be free of my dependency on you sniveling little witches! With a magic all my own, I will be unstoppable.”

“Hold on!” Emma cried out. “What do you mean absorb my magic?” Gold waved his hand, and blessedly the hold on Emma was released. She moved to run to Killian and Tilly, but found her steps were sluggish. “What did you do to me?”

“Simply augmented your body’s own pre-existing fatigue. You should take better care of yourself, my dear. It must have been a while since you last ate or slept.” He walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She tried to shrug it away, but found she lacked the strength for anything beyond a slight twitch of the muscle. “I should have seen it sooner. You have an immense power. Greater than even hers.” He inclined his head toward Tilly. “I’ve always overlooked you, thinking you were nothing more than the vessel by which I finally obtained my grandson. But I have been foolish.”

“Somehow I don’t feel flattered by that,” Emma replied. Her tongue felt thick. Whatever Gold had done to her was inhibiting even her ability to speak.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” he replied drily.

“So…” Emma began with a huff, trying hard to work out the words. “What is… the point? Why do… steal… power.” She had to focus. Anything other than breathing was becoming difficult.

“I do not steal power!” Gold cried out indignantly. “I am a witch hunter. I rid the world of magic users who would use their power for evil. The power I take is necessary to help me continue my hunts… and it is my right.” He preened as he continued speaking.

“I am one of the few people to have ever existed that can properly wield magic. It is my job to rid the world of those who can’t. Like this one.” His voice changed to a growl as he stared at Tilly. “Your bloodline has always been a curse on this world. It should have died out with you years ago, but somehow you managed to break free of my hold. I should have known you had help.”

Tilly responded, but not out loud. Instead her voice sounded only inside Emma’s head. _“Keep him talking,”_ she said.

“If you're… witch hunter,” Emma began, still struggling to speak, “why be…  mayor of… small town… so many… years?”

“Misthaven bog is a site of great mystical import. I don't need to hunt the witches. They'll come to me. I have captured more of your kind in the last 265 years than ever before.”

_“I'll take care of him,”_  Emma heard Tilly say in her head.  _“This has been a long time coming for me. I shouldn’t have tried to run again. Please, take good care of my Papa.”_

Before Emma could attempt a response, she saw from the corner of her eye as Tilly bolted from her spot beside her father and ran straight for the bog. Gold yelled in frustration and charged after her. When he was gone, his hold on Emma released, and she ran to Killian's side.

“Killian! Are you okay?”

“Alice…” he choked out. “Please, help her. Don't let her face that monster alone.”

Emma sucked in a nervous breath. “I don't know how to fight him. I'm still not sure I have magic, much less how to use it.”

“You do, love. You're strong, just like my Alice.”

“How? What do I do?”

“Trust your instincts. You'll know what to do. Magic…” he broke off with a groan, and Emma saw for the first time a wound on his abdomen.

“You're bleeding! Let me take you to the hospital.” He opened his mouth as if to protest, but she cut him off. “Tilly asked me to take care of you!”

“It'll keep,” he replied with a groan. “Please… help her. Magic is part of you, Swan. Trust yourself.”

“Okay…” Emma said, still not sure what she was agreeing to. She stood on shaky legs and gave him one last glance before running through the woods in the same direction as Tilly and Gold.

When she arrived, she saw Tilly standing out in the bog with her hands held up in defense. Gold stood opposite her in a similar posture. Judging by their appearance, they'd already traded a few blows.

“Ah Miss Swan. Late again,” Gold said. He did not turn from Tilly, but threw his hand back in Emma’s direction. She saw a burst of magic coming toward her in slow motion. As it came closer, she heard Killian in her head, telling her to trust her instincts, and she thrust her hands out in front of her. Inexplicably, a burst of yellow light came from her hands and deflected the blow Gold had sent her way.

Gold turned his head slightly in annoyance. Emma took advantage of his momentary shock and sent a blast of her own his way. He was able to avoid the blow, but the distraction was what Tilly needed.

Tilly threw her hands up and conjured up an enormous charge, seemingly coming from deep inside her. Her eyes glowed a bright white. Gold turned back, stunned at the sight.

“Your reign of terror is over!” Tilly cried out, still building the charge.

“If you use that on me, it will kill us both,” Gold said, a hint of fear in his voice.

“A worthy death for me!” Tilly cried. She pushed her hands out and sent the charge flying toward Gold. The burst knocked him back 20 feet, to the edge of a small pool of water. Tilly flew the same distance in the opposite direction. They both retained consciousness, but Emma watched in wonder as streams of a black, oily substance seeped from Gold’s body and hovered in the air above him. It gathered into a small cloud and proceeded to rain down into the pool.

“No!” Gold cried out. “What have you done?!”

Tilly was weak, but she let out a small chuckle. “You can no longer hurt anyone else. Not only do you no longer have your power, but I've blocked you from ever taking another person's magic again.”

“You conceited bitch! I will find a way to end you!”

At his words, the wind grew cold and dark storm clouds gathered overhead, blocking out all daylight. The wind blew stronger, and Emma heard an otherworldly voice carried on it.

_“Roderick Gold…” t_ he voice bellowed.  _“You must pay for your wrongs…”_

Mist gathered over the pond before coalescing into a long tendril. It looked like a spindly hand rising from the water. Other hands followed, all converging on Gold’s body and pulling him down into the pool.

“No! No!” he screamed, but it was no use. The last sound he made was a gurgling, frightened wail as his body disappeared into the murky waters below.

Once he was gone, the sky instantly cleared. Emma ran to Tilly.

“Are you okay?”

Tilly ran her hands along her stomach. “I am.” She turned her face to look up at Emma in wonder. “I should have died, but I didn't.” She gave Emma a broad smile before her face fell. “Papa.”

The two woman ran back through the bog and the woods and found Killian's lifeless body lying on the side of the road.

“No! Papa!” Tilly cried as she ran and knelt by his side. “Please come back! It's over. We can be together again!”

Emma felt tears streaking down her cheeks. “Is there some way you can heal him?”

“I drained all my magic when I sent that blast to Gold. I don’t have anymore to give right now!” She broke down in sobs for a moment before looking back up at Emma, her eyes wide. “You! You can heal him!”

“How?” Emma asked again. “I don't know how to use my magic.”

“Please!” Tilly cried.

Emma knelt down beside his body and cradled his head in her hands. Not knowing what to do, she decided to start with basic CPR. “Killian,” she whispered as she bent down to bring her face level with his, “come back to me.”

She pinched his nose and lowered her mouth to his. Being so close and smelling his smell, she couldn't resist the urge to give his lips a soft kiss before starting to administer mouth-to-mouth. Before she could begin to share breath, however, she was hit with a rush of wind as a brilliant, rainbow colored light flew out from the point where their mouths were joined. Emma bolted upright and stared at Tilly. “What was that?”

“True Love’s Kiss,” Tilly replied with a smile.

Before Emma could respond, she heard a deep gasp of air and looked down to see Killian's beautiful blue eyes open once more.

“Swan,” he said, bringing his hand to his lips and touching them lightly. “You saved me.”

Emma could only smile as she helped him sit up. When she was sure he was okay, she threw her body forward and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Killian laughed and patted her back while he used the other arm to pull Tilly closer into his side.

“We’re okay,” he said in awe.

* * *

 

_Storybrooke, Tuesday, July 3, 2018_

Once again Emma sat at the conference table in town hall with Graham, David, and Deputy Mayor Mills. Regina called an emergency meeting to deal with the fallout of the discovery on Gold’s property. Of course, no one other than Emma knew the full extent of their former mayor’s crimes.

Once she, Tilly, and Killian were all satisfied they were okay, Tilly reminded them that Anastasia Belfry was still held captive. Emma chose to act in her official capacity as a deputy and called in David to assist. She informed him that they’d been given an anonymous tip that there was a woman being held captive in Mayor Gold’s house. David had been hesitant to go at first, afraid to cross the mayor, but when they got to the property, they heard cries for help. Emma suspected that Tilly might have helped ensure the cries were audible to her brother.

Once they discovered Anastasia, all hell broke loose. Ana reported seeing Gold bury people in the backyard, which led to an excavation that uncovered the remains of three other bodies, all indicating women between the ages of 13 to 25. A team was brought in to examine the remains, of which Tilly was part, since it turned out she actually  _did_  work for the Boston PD Medical Examiner’s department.

There was no sight of Gold, but his car was missing. Tilly said her magic still hadn’t fully returned, but Emma was suspicious, considering how she’d helped tie up some loose ends. Fortunately, in all the fuss over Gold, the bog body had all but been forgotten.

“Well,” Regina began with a heavy sigh, “isn’t this a real shit show?”

“We’ve managed to keep it relatively quiet for now,” Graham said, “but it won’t be long before word gets out.”

“So what do we do now?” David asked.

“We have that damned parade,” Regina replied. “Let’s do whatever we can to distract the town. Hell, now that Gold is effectively gone, I can divert some budget funds to make the upgrades to the playground everyone’s been asking about for years. Something,  _anything_  to keep their minds off this disaster.”

“I think you need to make a statement, Regina- sorry, Deputy Mayor Mills,” Emma interjected. “If you don’t, the gossip will be worse no matter what you try to do to stop it.”

“You’re probably right, Deputy Swan,” Regina sighed heavily. “I’ll call Sidney and get something in tomorrow’s edition of the paper and then I’ll make a statement after the parade. I’ll just say that Mayor Gold had to leave suddenly due to personal reasons and that he will not be returning. I’ll step in as mayor in the interim until we can have a proper election in the fall. But I need you three to keep what you found at his house yesterday under wraps as much as possible.” She stood and leaned over the table, glaring at the three of them.

“Of course,” Graham replied.

“What about the missing bog body?” David asked. Emma threw him a dirty look for bringing it up.

“Oh hell, I don’t know! Let’s say Gold took it and destroyed it. Don’t bother me with idiotic things like that, Deputy Nolan.”

David slumped in his chair, looking thoroughly chastised. “Yes ma’am.”

“Now, I have work to do, as I believe you three do as well, so I’m calling this meeting to a close. Get out of here.”

Regina turned and stormed back to her office, and the three Storybrooke PD employees returned to their station.

After another debriefing, David left to get some sleep before he had to come back for the night shift. Emma was nervous to be alone with Graham, but he pulled her aside, once David was gone.

“Emma,” he began. “I owe you an apology.”

“Graham, you don't have to…” she began, but he cut her off.

“I do, please,” he said as he held up a hand to stay further protests. He took a deep breath before carrying on. “My behavior on Sunday was abominable. Not only did I try to force myself on you, I also punished you for no other reason than my own bruised ego. I really can't say anything to make up for it, so I will just say again that I'm sorry. And if I ever do anything like that again, I want you to go straight to Regina and report me.”

“ Okay,” Emma replied, obviously shocked by his admission. “Apology accepted.”

“Thank you, Emma. Now, I need to make some calls.” He stepped into his office. “Let me know if you need anything,” he called over his shoulder.

Emma returned to her desk and started on her own to-do list. When 1:00 rolled around and her stomach grumbled, she looked up to see Graham still on the phone. Deciding to make a peace offering, she wrote  _lunch?_  on a post-it and dropped it on his desk. Graham nodded and wrote down his order on the same post-it and Emma left to run across the street to Granny’s.

Once inside, she placed her order and took a seat at the bar. After a few minutes of aimlessly staring into space, she heard a familiar voice from behind her.

“Swan?”

Emma turned slowly. She hadn’t seen Killian since immediately after the battle with Gold. The longer she stayed away, the more nervous she was to be around him. After all, it isn’t every day that you share True Love’s Kiss with someone.

“Killian. How are you?” She slid off the stool and moved to stand before him.

“I'm getting better. My memory has fully returned, but it's going to take awhile to get used to this new world. Alice tried to teach me how to use her phone this morning, but I did not have much success.”

She smiled at him. “You'll get there.”

“Aye, no doubt I will. Anyway, she tells me I should learn how to operate something called ‘face time’ so you and I can keep in touch after we leave.”

“Wait,” she said, taking a half-step toward him. “You're still going to Boston?”

“I think it's for the best, love. I need to disappear into a big city. I'm afraid if I stay around here, people will start asking questions that I can't answer.”

“But… what about us? Our connection… that kiss?”

He stepped closer and intertwined their fingers once more. “Could you not come to Boston with us?”

“Killian, I would love to, but my life is here. My  _son's_  life is here. We can't just pick up and move.”

“Of course love. I apologize for even suggesting it.” He looked away, the tips of his ears turning red. “Wishful thinking on my part. You must do what is best for your child. If anyone can understand that, it would be me.”

“But are you sure you have to go? People are nice in this town. I'm sure if we give them the right story, they'll accept you as their own and stop asking questions.” She squeezed his hand as she spoke.

“I don't know, Emma. Everything is still so confusing now.”

“Papa?” Emma heard Tilly/Alice approach from her back. Despite their alliance the day before, Emma was having trouble feeling anything other than animosity toward the other woman at present.

Not turning to look at his daughter, Emma released Killian's hand. “Just for the record, people will find you having a daughter 10 years younger than you just as weird in a city as they would here. You may want to work with her on finding a new nickname for yourself.” She stepped forward to the counter, where a very timely Granny was just setting down her takeout bag. She paid for her food and left without another word.

* * *

 

_Storybrooke, Wednesday, July 4, 2018_

Emma strolled down main street, checking the barricades she, David, and Graham had set up last night along with a dozen volunteers. The parade had been a Storybrooke tradition since the 1940s, and had grown to be quite a big event. Emma always wondered why her little town, normally so insignificant to the surrounding area, would be so busy on the 4th of July. Especially now, knowing the true history of the town, it was more of a mystery to her than ever.

It was currently 9:00 in the morning, and people were already starting to line up along the street, even though the main event would not start until 11:00. The little shops that lined the street were bustling with tourists. Belle had brought her town history exhibit out to be displayed in the lobby of the library, bringing quite a bit more traffic her way. Emma had been assigned to patrol Main Street, where she would be joined by two officers from the neighboring jurisdiction at 10:30. She continued her walk, inspecting the barricades, and came upon Granny’s, which currently was so crowded that there was line extending outside the door.

She stood there for a moment, observing the crowd for any suspicious behavior. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone approaching from the walkway that ran alongside the diner and led to the inn that Granny also ran. Once she saw it was Killian and his daughter, she turned her head and started to walk away.

“No, Emma, wait!”

She rounded on them. “What do you want, Tilly? Or is it Alice now?”

The other woman looked chastened. “It’s still Tilly. My legal name  _is_ Matilda Towers.”

“Fine. What do you want,  _Tilly_?”

“To apologize to you, and to ask for your help.”

Emma raised her eyebrows in response.

Tilly took a deep breath. “It’s selfish of me to try and take Papa away from here. I missed him so much, but now that Gold is gone and we’re safe, there’s no reason he needs to disappear. And I can always come and visit.”

“Wait…” Emma relaxed her posture and took a half step closer. “What are you saying?”

“She’s saying,” Killian interjected, “that I want to stay here in Storybrooke, with you. If you’ll have me.”

Emma was dumbstruck. “I… I mean, I will… have you, that is. But I don’t think you can move in with me.”

“I’ll set him up with a place to live,” Tilly supplied. “I’ve got a pretty healthy bank account after 200 years of saving.” She gave Emma a sheepish grin. “I just need your help in getting him settled here. Maybe you know of somewhere that he could work?”

“I can ask around…”

“And I’ll want to come visit quite a bit. He’s still my papa and I missed him, but it’s wrong of me to keep him away from his true love.”

Emma smiled then, and felt tears well in her eyes, though they were tears of joy. “Okay, I can help with that.” She paused and took a shaky breath. “And I’m sorry for the way I acted yesterday.”

“All is forgiven,” Tilly said with a beaming smile.

“Um... excuse me, Emma?” she heard a voice from behind her and Emma turned to see Regina’s niece.

“Hi Margot. Home from grad school?”

“Uh, yeah,” Margot replied, though she looked a little bewildered. “Sorry… to interrupt.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay. We were just leaving,” Tilly replied, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

“That’s a shame,” Margot replied with a flirty smile. Emma couldn’t stop her smirk. Margot always had good game.

“Right,” Emma said, sharing her smirk with Killian now. “Margot, this is Tilly and Killian. Guys, this is Margot.”

“Pleasure,” Tilly said, reaching her hand out to shake Margot’s.

“Likewise,” Margot said, grasping Tilly’s hand and holding it for a moment while staring into her eyes.

“Did you need something, Margot?” Emma asked.

That seemed to snap her out of her trance and she looked at Emma once more. “Oh, um, yes. I think I saw some kids trying to break into a red Mustang parked in the alley two blocks down.”

“I’ll go check it out. Killian,” she extended and arm toward him, “would you like to join me on a walk?”

“Indeed I would. It was lovely to meet you, Margot. Would you mind keeping my… Tilly company?”

“Gladly,” Margot said.

Emma and Killian threaded their fingers together and walked away, twin smiles adorning their faces.

* * *

 

_Storybrooke, July 15, 2018_

It had been nearly two weeks since the parade. Nearly two weeks since Emma learned she had magic. Two weeks since she learned she had a true love.

Emma parked in front of the bog and stepped out of her car. The past two weeks had been wonderful, if still a bit overwhelming. The parade was a success. Most of the floats were the usual fare that she saw every year, but the float Henry and Avery worked on blew her away. They’d done a very good job of recreating the painting of Washington Crossing the Delaware. They’d decorated the trailer to look like a longboat, and the boys, along with several of their friends, dressed in powdered wigs and Revolutionary War costumes. Some boys sat on the side and pretended to row the ‘boat’ while Henry, very proud to play the part of George Washington, stood at the ‘helm’ with one knee propped on the side of the craft while he watched the horizon. In the end, they won the prize for best float.

The townspeople were accepting of Killian. They’d been told that Killian was Tilly’s older half brother. He’d lost his memory after a head injury and Emma had helped him during that time. He’d decided to stay in Storybrooke for his recovery, preferring the small town to bustling life in the city. The people of Storybrooke were proud of their town, and gladly accepted this story, not asking many other questions. Tilly had procured documentation to support the story, either through magic or less legal means Emma would never know. However it was obtained, Killian had everything he needed to make a fresh start.

He was getting settled in his new apartment, and had taken a job working part time at the docks after befriending the harbormaster. He spent his days learning how things had and hadn’t changed in the 260 years since he’d last worked on a dock. Currently he was helping to inspect incoming freight and monitor other activity, but he would be taking on a more active role once he was fitted for the prosthetic hand Tilly had secured for him.

Emma saw Killian almost daily, and she had no more lingering feelings of loneliness. And Tilly had visited twice since initially leaving Storybrooke, and was already talking about moving here. In addition to her desire to be close to her Papa, Tilly was getting closer to Margot, who was attending grad school at the University of Maine and had been talking for some time about her desire to move back home. It warmed Emma’s heart to see Tilly had found someone after so many years of being alone.

Thinking of her wish two weeks ago, Emma had resolved to visit the bog today. She walked down the usual path and found her bench. She sat there and smelled the mossy earth and listened to the birds. The sky was once again beautifully clear. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and whispered “thank you.” A soft breeze blew up at that moment and kissed her face and she smiled. She heard footsteps approaching and turned to see Killian walking toward her.

“May I join you?”

“Of course,” she replied, scooting over on the bench. He sat next to her and threaded their fingers together, as he often did. She sighed contentedly. “How did you know I was out here?”

“I was visiting Robin and I saw your car.”

“I’m glad you have some friends. Robin’s a good guy, even if he still owes me some grilled cheeses.”

Killian cracked a smile. “I’ll remind him of that when I next see him.” He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. She closed her eyes and smiled. “What brings you out here today?”

“I was just thinking about how much has changed in the last two weeks. I think the reason we first found you was because of a wish I made while out here.”

“Truly? What was that wish?”

“To find the person meant for me.”

“Well I am glad the bog brought me back for you.” He turned his head to face her, their lips a hair’s breadth away.

“As am I,” she whispered before closing the gap and capturing his lips with her own.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to learn more about bog bodies, I’d recommend the stories by National Geographic and the Dublin Museum. It’s a truly fascinating process! Search for “Tollund Man” and look at the some the pictures. The way these bodies are preserved is incredible!


End file.
